_Wheel._ So do I, 'faith! It was the best thing. I wanted, you see, to get him out of my way, that I might have the field clear for electioneering to-day. So I bowls up to him with a long face--such a face as this. 'Mr. Talbot, do you know--I'm sorry to tell you, here's Jack Smith has just brought the news from Salt Hill. Your mother, in getting into the carriage, slipped, and has _broke_ her leg, and there she's lying at a farmhouse, two miles off. Is not it true, Jack?' said I. 'I saw the farmer helping her in with my own eyes,' cries Jack. Off goes Talbot like an arrow. '_Quizzed_ him, _quizzed_ him!' said I.

_Burs._ Ha! ha! ha! quizzed him indeed, with all his cleverness; that was famously done.

_Wheel._ Ha! ha! ha! With all his cleverness he will be all the evening hunting for the farmhouse and the mother that has _broke_ her leg; so he is out of our way.

_Burs._ But what need have you to want him out of your way, now Lord John has come over to your side? You have the thing at a dead beat.

_Wheel._ Not so dead either; for there's a great independent party, you know; and if _you_ don't help me, Bursal, to canva.s.s them, I shall be no captain. It is you I depend upon after all. Will you come and canva.s.s them with me? Dear Bursal, pray--all depends upon you.

(_Pulls him by the arm--Bursal follows._)

_Burs._ Well, if all depends upon me, I'll see what I can do for you.

(_Aside._) Then I am of some consequence! Money makes a man of some consequence, I see; at least with some folks.

SCENE II

_In the back scene a flock of sheep are seen penned. In front, a party of country lads and la.s.ses, gaily dressed, as in sheep-shearing time, with ribands and garlands of flowers, etc., are dancing and singing._

_Enter_ PATTY, _dressed as the Queen of the Festival, with a lamb in her arms. The dancers break off when she comes in, and direct their attention towards her._

_1st Peasant._ Oh, here comes Patty! Here comes the Queen o' the day.

What has kept you from us so long, Patty?

_2nd Peasant._ '_Please your Majesty_,' you should say.

_Patty._ This poor little lamb of mine was what kept me so long. It strayed away from the rest; and I should have lost him, so I should, for ever, if it had not been for a good young gentleman. Yonder he is, talking to Farmer Hearty. That's the young gentleman who pulled my lamb out of the ditch for me, into which he had fallen--pretty creature!

_1st Peasant._ Pretty creature--or, your Majesty, whichever you choose to be called--come and dance with them, and I'll carry your lamb.

(_Exeunt, singing and dancing._)

_Enter_ FARMER HEARTY _and_ TALBOT.

_Farmer._ Why, young gentleman, I'm glad I happened to light upon you here, and so to hinder you from going farther astray, and set your heart at ease like.

_Talb._ Thanks, good farmer, you have set my heart at ease, indeed. But the truth is, they did frighten me confoundedly--more fool I.

_Farm._ No fool at all, to my notion. I should, at your age, ay, or at my age, just the self-same way have been frightened myself, if so be that mention had been made to me, that way, of my own mother's having broke her leg or so. And greater, by a great deal, the shame for them that frighted you, than for you to be frighted. How young gentlemen, now, can bring themselves for to tell such lies, is to me, now, a matter of amazement, like, that I can't noways get over.

_Talb._ Oh, farmer, such lies are very witty, though you and I don't just now like the wit of them. This is fun, this is _quizzing_; but you don't know what we young gentlemen mean by _quizzing_.

_Farm._ Ay, but I do though, to my cost, ever since last year. Look you, now, at yon fine field of wheat. Well, it was just as fine, and finer, last year, till a young Eton jackanapes----

_Talb._ Take care what you say, farmer; for I am a young Eton jackanapes.

_Farm._ No; but you be not the young Eton jackanapes that I'm a-thinking on. I tell you it was this time last year, man; he was a-horseback, I tell ye, mounted upon a fine bay hunter, out o' hunting, like.

_Talb._ I tell you 'it was this time last year, man, that I was mounted upon a fine bay hunter, out a-hunting.

_Farm._ Zooks! would you argufy a man out of his wits? You won't go for to tell me that you are that impertinent little jackanapes!

_Talb._ No! no! I'll not tell you that I am an impertinent little jackanapes!

_Farm._ (_wiping his forehead_). Well, don't then, for I can't believe it; and you put me out. Where was I?

_Talb._ Mounted upon a fine bay hunter.

_Farm._ Ay, so he was. 'Here, _you_,' says he, meaning me--'open this gate for me.' Now, if he had but a-spoke me fair, I would not have gainsaid him; but he falls to swearing, so I bid him open the gate for himself. 'There's a bull behind you, farmer,' says he. I turns.

'_Quizzed_ him!' cries my jackanapes, and off he gallops him, through the very thick of my corn; but he got a fall, leaping the ditch out yonder, which pacified me, like, at the minute. So I goes up to see whether he was killed; but he was not a whit the worse for his tumble.

So I should ha' fell into a pa.s.sion with him then, to be sure, about my corn; but his horse had got such a terrible sprain, I couldn't say anything to him; for I was a-pitying the poor animal. As fine a hunter as ever you saw! I am s_a_rtain sure he could never come to good after.

_Talb._ (_aside_). I do think, from the description, that this was Wheeler; and I have paid for the horse which he spoiled! (_Aloud._) Should you know either the man or the horse again, if you were to see them?

_Farm._ Ay, that I should, to my dying day.

_Talb._ Will you come with me, then, and you'll do me some guineas'

worth of service?

_Farm._ Ay, that I will, with a deal of pleasure; for you be a civil-spoken young gentleman; and, besides, I don't think the worse _on_ you for being _frighted_ a little about your mother; being what I might ha' been, at your age, myself; for I had a mother myself once. So lead on, master.

(_Exeunt._)

ACT THE THIRD

SCENE I

_The Garden of the 'Windmill Inn' at Salt Hill_

MISS BURSAL, MRS. NEWINGTON, SALLY _the Chambermaid_

(_Miss Bursal, in a fainting state, is sitting on a garden stool, and leaning her head against the Landlady. Sally is holding a gla.s.s of water and a smelling bottle._)

_Miss Bursal._ Where am I? Where am I?

_Landlady._ At the 'Windmill,' at Salt Hill, young lady; and ill or well, you can't be better.

_Sally._ Do you find yourself better since coming into the air, miss?

_Miss B._ Better! Oh, I shall never be better!

(_Leans her head on hand, and rocks herself backwards and forwards._)

_Landlady._ My dear young lady, don't take on so. (_Aside._) Now would I give something to know what it was my Lady Piercefield said to the father, and what the father said to this one, and what's the matter at the bottom of affairs. Sally, did you hear anything at the doors?

_Sally_ (_aside_). No, indeed, ma'am; I never _be's_ at the doors.