MRS. B.--Oh, my poor dear Lady Kicklebury. [They embrace each other.]

LADY K.--I have been down on my knees to him, dearest Mrs. Bonnington.

MRS. B.--Let us both--both go down on our knees--I WILL [to her husband]. Edward, I will! [Both ladies on their knees. BONNINGTON with outstretched hands behind them.] Look, unhappy boy! look, Horace! two mothers on their wretched knees before you, imploring you to send away this monster! Speak to him, Mr. Bonnington. Edward! use authority with him, if he will not listen to his mother--

LADY K.--To his mothers!

Enter TOUCHIT.

TOUCHIT.--What is this comedy going on, ladies and gentlemen? The ladies on their elderly knees--Miss Prior with her hair down her back. Is it tragedy or comedy--is it a rehearsal for a charade, or are we acting for Horace's birthday? or, oh!--I beg your Reverence's pardon--you were perhaps going to a professional duty?

MR. B.--It's WE who are praying this child, Touchit. This child, with whom you used to come home from Westminster when you were boys. You have influence with him; he listens to you. Entreat him to pause in his madness.

TOUCHIT.--What madness?

MRS. B.--That--that woman--that serpent yonder--that--that dancing-woman, whom you introduced to Arabella Milliken,--ah! and I rue the day:--Horace is going to mum--mum--marry her!

TOUCHIT.--Well! I always thought he would. Ever since I saw him and her playing at whist together, when I came down here a month ago, I thought he would do it.

MRS. B.--Oh, it's the whist, the whist! Why did I ever play at whist, Edward? My poor Mr. Milliken used to like his rubber.

TOUCHIT.--Since he has been a widower--

LADY K.--A widower of that angel! [Points to picture.]

TOUCHIT.--Pooh, pooh, angel! You two ladies have never given the poor fellow any peace. You were always quarrelling over him. You took possession of his house, bullied his servants, spoiled his children; you did, Lady Kicklebury.

LADY K.--Sir, you are a rude, low, presuming, vulgar man. Clarence! beat this rude man!

TOUCHIT.--From what I have heard of your amiable son, he is not in the warlike line, I think. My dear Julia, I am delighted with all my heart that my old friend should have found a woman of sense, good conduct, good temper--a woman who has had many trials, and borne them with great patience--to take charge of him and make him happy. Horace, give me your hand! I knew Miss Prior in great poverty. I am sure she will bear as n.o.bly her present good fortune; for good fortune it is to any woman to become the wife of such a loyal, honest, kindly gentleman as you are!

Enter JOHN.

JOHN.--If you please, my lady--if you please, sir--Bulkeley--

LADY K.--What of Bulkeley, sir?

JOHN.--He has packed his things, and Cornet Kicklebury's things, my lady.

MILLIKEN.--Let the fellow go.

JOHN.--He won't go, sir, till my lady have paid him his book and wages.

Here's the book, sir.

LADY K.--Insolence! quit my presence! And I, Mr. Milliken, will quit a house--

JOHN.--Shall I call your ladyship a carriage?

LADY K.--Where I have met with rudeness, cruelty, and fiendish [to Miss P., who smiles and curtsies]--yes, fiendish ingrat.i.tude. I will go, I say, as soon as I have made arrangements for taking other lodgings. You cannot expect a lady of fashion to turn out like a servant.

JOHN.--Hire the "Star and Garter" for her, sir. Send down to the "Castle;" anything to get rid of her. I'll tell her maid to pack her traps. Pinhorn! [Beckons maid and gives orders.]

TOUCHIT.--You had better go at once, my dear Lady Kicklebury.

LADY K.--Sir!

TOUCHIT.--THE OTHER MOTHER-IN-LAW IS COMING! I met her on the road with all her family. He! he! he! [Screams.]

Enter Mrs. PRIOR and Children.

MRS. P.--My lady! I hope your ladyship is quite well! Dear, kind Mrs.

Bonnington! I came to pay my duty to you, ma'am. This is Charlotte, my lady--the great girl whom your ladyship so kindly promised the gown for; and this is my little girl, Mrs. Bonnington, ma'am, please; and this is my Bluecoat boy. Go and speak to dear, kind Mr. Milliken--our best friend and protector--the son and son-in-law of these dear ladies. Look, sir! He has brought his copy to show you. [Boy shows copy.] Ain't it creditable to a boy of his age, Captain Touchit? And my best and most grateful services to you, sir. Julia, Julia, my dear, where's your cap and spectacles, you stupid thing? You've let your hair drop down. What!

what!--[Begins to be puzzled.]

MRS. B.--Is this collusion, madam?

MRS. P.--Collusion, dear Mrs. Bonnington!

LADY K.--Or insolence, Mrs. Prior!

MRS. P.--Insolence, your ladyship! What--what is it? what has happened?

What's Julia's hair down for? Ah! you've not sent the poor girl away?

the poor, poor child, and the poor, poor children!

TOUCHIT.--That dancing at the "Coburg" has come out, Mrs. Prior.

MRS. P.--Not the darling's fault. It was to help her poor father in prison. It was I who forced her to do it. Oh! don't, don't, dear Lady Kicklebury, take the bread out of the mouths of these poor orphans!

[Crying.]

MILLIKEN.--Enough of this, Mrs. Prior: your daughter is not going away.

Julia has promised to stay with me--and--never to leave me--as governess no longer, but as wife to me.

MRS. P.--Is it--is it true, Julia?

MISS P.--Yes, mamma.

MRS. P.--Oh! oh! oh! [Flings down her umbrella, kisses JULIA, and running to MILLIKEN,] My son, my son! Come here, children. Come, Adolphus, Amelia, Charlotte--kiss your dear brother, children. What, my dears! How do you do, dears? [to MILLIKEN'S children]. Have they heard the news? And do you know that my daughter is going to be your mamma?

There--there--go and play with your little uncles and aunts, that's good children! [She motions off the Children, who retire towards garden. Her manner changes to one of great patronage and intense satisfaction.] Most hot weather, your ladyship, I'm sure. Mr. Bonnington, you must find it hot weather for preachin'! Lor'! there's that little wretch beatin'

Adolphus! George, sir! have done, sir! [Runs to separate them.] How ever shall we make those children agree, Julia?

MISS P.--They have been a little spoiled, and I think Mr. Milliken will send George and Arabella to school, mamma: will you not, Horace?

MR. MILLIKEN.--I think school will be the very best thing for them.

MRS. P.--And [Mrs. P. whispers, pointing to her own children] the blue room, the green room, the rooms old Lady Kick has--plenty of room for us, my dear!

MISS P.--No, mamma, I think it will be too large a party,--Mr. Milliken has often said that he would like to go abroad, and I hope that now he will be able to make his tour.