_Mat_. Me offended, miss!--I've not got life enough for it. I only want my father and my mother, and a long sleep.--If I had been born rich--

_Con_. You might have been miserable all the same. Listen, Mattie. I will tell you _my_ story--I was once as badly off as you--worse in some ways--ran about the streets without shoes to my feet, and hardly a frock to cover me.

_Mat_. La, miss! you don't say so! It's not possible! Look at you!

_Con_. Indeed, I tell you the truth. I know what hunger is too--well enough. My father was a silkweaver in Spitalfields. When he died, I didn't know where to go. But a gentleman--

_Mat_. Oh! a gentleman!--(_Fiercely_.) Why couldn't you be content with _one_, then?

_Con_. I don't understand you.

_Mat_. I dare say not! There! take your basket. I'll die afore a morsel pa.s.ses _my_ lips. There! Go away, miss.

_Con_. (_aside_). Poor girl! she is delirious. I must ask William to fetch a doctor. _Exit_.

_Mat_. I wish my hands were as white as hers.

_Enter_ SUSAN, _followed by_ COL. G. CONSTANCE _behind_.

_Sus_. Mattie! dear Mattie! this gentleman--don't be vexed--I couldn't help him bein' a gentleman; I was cryin' that bad, and I didn't see no one come up to me, and when he spoke to me, it made me jump, and I couldn't help answerin' of him--he spoke so civil and soft like, and me nigh mad! I thought you was dead, Mattie. He says he'll see us righted, Mattie.

_Col. G._ I'll do what I can, if you will tell me what's amiss.

_Sus_. Oh, everything's amiss--everything!--Who was that went out, Mattie--this minute--as we come in?

_Mat_. Miss Lacordere.

_Sus_. Her imperence! Well! I should die of shame if I was her.

_Mat_. She's an angel, Susan. There's her basket. I told her to take it away, but she would leave it.

_Sus_. (_peeping into the basket_). Oh, my! Ain't this nice? You _must_ have a bit, Mattie.

_Mat_. Not one mouthful. You wouldn't have me, Susan!

_Sus_. _I_ ain't so peticlar (_eating a great mouthful_). You really must, Mattie. (_Goes on eating_.)

_Col. G._ Don't tease her. We'll get something for her presently. And don't you eat too much--all at once.

_Sus_. I think she'd like a chop, sir.--There's that boy, Bill, again!--Always when he ain't wanted!

_Enter_ BILL.

_Bill_ (_aside to Susan_). What's the row? What's that 'ere gent up to? I've been an' had enough o' gents. They're a bad lot. I been too much for one on 'em, though. I ha' run _him_ down.--And, Mattie, I've found the old gen'leman.

_Mat_. My father, Bill?

_Bill_. That's it percisely! Right as a trivet--he is!

_Mat_. Susan! take hold of me. My heart's going again.

_Bill_. Lord! what's up wi' Mattie? She do look dreadful.

_Sus_. You been an' upset her, you clumsy boy! Here--run and fetch a sausage or two, and a--

_Col. G._ No, no! That will never do.

_Sus_. Them's for Bill and me, sir. I was a goin' on, sir.--And, Bill, a chop--a nice chop. But Lord! how are we to cook it, with never a fryin'-pan, or a bit o' fire to set it on!

_Col. G._ You'd never think of doing a chop for an invalid in the frying-pan?

_Sus_. Certainly not, sir--we 'ain't got one. Everything's up the spout an' over the top. Run, Bill. A bit of cold chicken, and two pints o' bottled stout. There's the money the gen'leman give me.--'T 'ain't no Miss Lackodare's, Mattie.

_Bill_. I'll trouble no gen'leman to perwide for _my_ family--obleeged all the same, sir. Mattie never wos a dub at dewourin', but I'll get her some'at toothsome. I favours grub myself.

_Col. G._ I'll go with you, Bill. I want to talk to you.

_Bill_. Well, I 'ain't no objection--so be you wants to talk friendly, sir.

_Col. G._ Good night. I'll come and see you to-morrow.

_Sus_. G.o.d bless you, sir. You've saved both on our lives. I _was_ a goin' to drown myself, Mattie--I really was this time. Wasn't I, sir?

_Col. G._ Well, you looked like it--that is all I can say. You shall do it next time--so far as I'm concerned.

_Sus_. I won't never no more again, sir--not if Mattie don't drive me to it.

_Con_. (_to_ COL. G.). Come back for me in a little while.

_Col. G._ Yes, miss. Come, Bill. _Exit_.

_Bill_. All right, sir. I'm a follerin', as the cat said to the pigeon. _Exit_.

_Sus_. I'll just go and get you a cup o' tea. Mrs. Jones's kettle's sure to be a bilin'. That's what you would like.

_Exit_. _Constance steps aside, and Susan pa.s.ses without seeing her_.

_Mat_. Oh! to be a baby again in my mother's arms! But it'll soon be over now.

CONSTANCE _comes forward_.

_Con_. I hope you're a little better now?

_Mat_. You're very kind, miss; and I beg your pardon for speaking to you as I did.

_Con_. Don't say a word about it. You didn't quite know what you were saying. I'm in trouble myself. I don't know how soon I may be worse off than you.

_Mat_. Why, miss, I thought you were going to be married!