_Con._ You're not afraid of being left alone with me, Arthur?

_Ger._ Oh no! of course not?--What can have become of William? Don't you know they sent him--not those women, but the dead people--to look after me? He's a good fellow. He said he would die for me. Ha! ha! ha!

Not much in that--is there?

_Con._ Don't laugh so, dear Arthur.

_Ger._ Well, I won't. I have something to tell you, Constance. I will try to keep my senses till I've told you.

_Con._ Do tell me. I hope I haven't done anything more to vex you.

Indeed I am sorry. I won't speak to that man again, if you like. I would rather not--if you wish it.

_Ger._ What right have I to dictate to you, my child?

_Con._ Every right. I am yours. I belong to you. n.o.body owned me when you took me.

_Ger._ Don't talk like that; you will drive me mad.

_Con._ Arthur! Arthur!

_Ger._ Listen to me, Constance. I am going to Garibaldi. He wants soldiers. I must not live an idle life any longer.--We must part, Constance.--Good-bye, my darling!

_Con._ No, no; not yet; we'll talk about it by-and-by. You see I shall have ever so many things to make for you before you can go!

(_smiling_).

_Ger._ Garibaldi can't wait, Constance--and _I_ can't wait. I shall die if I stop here.

_Con._ Oh, Arthur, you are in some trouble, and you won't tell me what it is, so I can't help you!

_Ger._ I shall be killed, I know. I mean to be. Will you think of me sometimes? Give me one kiss. I may have a last kiss.

_Con._ (_weeping_.) My heart will break if you talk like that, Arthur.

I will do anything you please. There's something wrong, dreadfully wrong! And it must be my fault!--Oh! there's that man! (_starting up_.) He shall _not_ come here.

[_Runs to the house-door, and stands listening, with her hand on the key_.]

END OF ACT I.

ACT II.

SCENE.--_A street in Mayfair_. MRS. CLIFFORD'S _house. A pastrycook's shop. Boys looking in at the window_.

_Bill._ I say, Jim, ain't it a lot o' grub? If I wos a pig now,--

_Jack._ I likes to hear Bill a supposin' of hisself. Go it, Bill!--There ain't nothink _he_ can't suppose hisself, Jim.--Bein' as you ain't a pig.

Bill, you've got yer own trotters, an' yer own tater-trap.

_Bill._ Vereupon blue Bobby eccosts me with the remark, "I wants you, Bill;" and seein' me too parerlyzed to bolt, he pops me in that 'ere jug vithout e'er a handle.

_Jack._ Mother kep' a pig once.

_Jim._ What was he like, Jack?

_Jack._ As like any other pig as ever he could look; accep' that where other pigs is black he wor white, an' where other pigs is white he wor black.

_Jim._ Did you have the milk in your tea, Jack?

_Jack._ Pigs ain't got no milk, Jim, you stupe!

_Bill._ Pigs _has_ milk, Jack, only they don't give it to coves.--I wish I wos the Lord Mayor!

_Jack._ Go it again, Bill. He ought ha' been a beak, Bill ought. What 'ud you do, Bill, supposin' as how you wos the Lord Mayor?

_Bill._ I'd take all the beaks, an' all the peelers, an' put their own bracelets on 'em, an' feed 'em once a day on sc.r.a.ps o' wittles to bring out the hunger: a cove can't be hungry upon nuffin at all.

_Jim._ He gets what mother calls the squeamishes.

_Jack._ Well, Bill?

_Bill._ Well, the worry moment their bellies was as long an' as loose as a o'-clo'-bag of a winter's mornin', I'd bring 'em all up to this 'ere winder, five or six at a time--with the darbies on, mind ye--

_Jim._ And I'm to be there to see, Bill--ain't I?

_Bill._ If you're good, Jim, an' don't forget yer prayers.

_Jack._ My eye! it's as good as a penny gaff! Go it, Bill.

_Bill._ Then I up an' addresses 'em: "My Lords an' Gen'lemen, 'cos as how ye're all good boys, an' goes to church, an' don't eat _too_ many wittles, an' don't take off your bracelets when you goes to bed, you shall obswerve me eat."

_Jim._ Go it, Bill! I likes you, Bill.

_Bill._ No, Jim; I must close. The imagination is a 'ungry gift, as the c.o.c.k said when he bolted the pebbles. Let's sojourn the meetin'.

_Jack_. Yes; come along. 'Tain't a comfable corner this yere: the wind cuts round uncommon sharp. Them pies ain't good--leastways not to look at.

_Bill_. They ain't disgestible. But look ye here, Jack and Jim--hearkee, my kids. (_Puts an arm round the neck of each, and whispers first to one and then to the other_.)

_Enter_ MATTIE _and_ SUSAN.

_Sus_. Now, Mattie, we're close to the house, an' I don't want to be seen with you, for she's mad at _me_.

_Mat_. You must have made her mad, then, Sue.

_Sus_. She madded me first: what else when she wouldn't believe a word I said? She'd ha' sworn on the gospel book, we sent the parcel up the spout. But she'll believe _you_, an' give you something, and then we'll have a chop!

_Mat_. How can you expect that, Sue, when the work's lost?