Not half so disagreeable as you are.

[_They wrangle._

WYKE.

[_To himself, watching them._] What a young gentleman it is! and only fourteen! Fourteen--he behaves like forty! [_CIS chokes as he is drinking the wine; BEATIE pats him on the back._] Why, even Cook has made a 'ash of everything, since he's been in the house, and as for Popham----! [_Seeing some one approaching._] Look out, Master Cis!

[_CIS returns to the piano, BEATIE counting as before. WYKE pretends to arrange the window curtains, concealing the decanter behind him._

BEATIE.

One and two--and one and two--and one, &c.

_Enter POPHAM, a smart-looking maid-servant._

POPHAM.

Wyke, where's the port?

WYKE.

[_Vacantly._] Port?

POPHAM.

Port wine. Missus is furious.

WYKE.

Port?

POPHAM.

[_Pointing to the decanter._] Why! There! You're carrying it about with you!

WYKE.

Why, so I am! Carrying it about with me! Shows what a sharp eye I keep on the guv'nor's wines. Carrying it about with me! Missus will be amused.

[_Goes out._

POPHAM.

[_Eyeing CIS and BEATIE._] There's that boy with _her_ again! Minx!

Her two hours was up long ago. Why doesn't she go home? Master Cis, I've got a message for you.

CIS.

[_Rising from the piano._] For me, Popham?

POPHAM.

Yes, sir. [_Quietly to him._] The message is from a young lady who up to last Wednesday was all in all to you. Her name is Emma Popham.

CIS.

[_Trying to get away._] Oh, go along, Popham!

POPHAM.

[_Holding his sleeve._] Ah, it wasn't "Go along, Popham" till that music girl came into the house. I will go along, but--cast your eye over this before you sleep to-night. [_She takes out of her pocket-handkerchief a piece of printed paper which she hands him between her finger and thumb._] Part of a story in "Bow Bells," called "Jilted; or, Could Blood Atone?" Wrap it in your handkerchief--it came round the b.u.t.ter.

[_She goes out; CIS throws the paper into the grate._

CIS.

Bother the girl! Beatie, she's jealous of you!

BEATIE.

A parlour-maid jealous of _me_--and with a bit of a child of fourteen!

CIS.

I may be only fourteen, but I feel like a grown-up man! You're only sixteen--there's not much difference--and if you will only wait for me, I'll soon catch you up and be as much a man as you are a woman.

Will you wait for me, Beatie?

BEATIE.

I can't--I'm getting older every minute!

CIS.

Oh, I wish I could borrow five or six years from somebody!

BEATIE.

Many a person would be glad to lend them. [_Lovingly._] And oh, I wish you could!

CIS.

[_Putting his arm round her._] You do! Why?

BEATIE.

Because I--because----

CIS.