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How dare I? Because me and him formed an attachment before ever you darkened our doors. [_Taking a folded printed paper from her pocket._]
You may put down the iron 'eel too heavy, Miss Tomlinson. I refer you to _Bow Bells_--"First Love is Best Love; or, The Earl's Choice."
[_As POPHAM offers the paper, CIS enters, looking very pale, worn-out, and dishevelled._
POPHAM AND BEATIE.
Oh!
CIS.
[_Staggering to a chair._] Where's the mater?
POPHAM.
Not home yet.
CIS.
Thank giminy!
BEATIE.
He's ill!
POPHAM.
Oh!
[_BEATIE, a.s.sisted by POPHAM, quickly wheels the large armchair forward, they catch hold of CIS and place him in it, he submits limply._
BEATIE.
[_Taking CIS'S hand._] What is the matter, Cis dear? Tell Beatie.
POPHAM.
[_Taking his other hand._] Well, I'm sure! Who's given you raisins and ketchup from the store cupboard? Come back to Emma!
[_CIS, with his eyes closed, gives a murmur._
BEATIE.
He's whispering!
[_They both bob their heads down to listen._
POPHAM.
He says his head's a-whirling.
BEATIE.
Put him on the sofa.
[_They take off his boots, loosen his necktie, and dab his forehead with water out of a flower-vase._
CIS.
I--I--I wish you two girls would leave off.
BEATIE.
He's speaking again. He hasn't had any breakfast! He's hungry!
POPHAM.
Hungry! I thought he looked thin! Wait a minute, dear! Emma Popham knows what her boy fancies!
[_She runs out of the room._
CIS.
Oh, Beatie, hold my head while I ask you something.
BEATIE.
Yes, darling!
CIS.
No lady would marry a gentleman who had been a convict, would she?
BEATIE.
No; certainly not!
CIS.
I thought not! Well, Beatie, I've been run after by a policeman.
BEATIE.
[_Leaving him._] Oh!
CIS.
Not caught, you know, only run after; and, walking home from Hendon this morning, I came to the conclusion that I ought to settle down in life. Beatie--could I write out a paper promising to marry you when I'm one-and-twenty?
