this roof. [_Aside to
Susan_] She don't look very prosperous, Susan: if there's anything that
money can get for her, I'll see she has it; mind that.

_Susan [aloud]._ She is poor, sir, and much in need of home and friends.

_Nokes [to Mrs. C.N.]._ Then you have found them here, ma'am. You're a
fixture at "the Tamarisks" for life, if it so pleases you.

_Mrs. C.N._ You are most kind, sir, but I have a husband and one
_little_ child.

_Nokes._ Never mind that: he'll grow. There's room here for you and your
husband and the little child, even if he does grow. Where are they? Show
them up.

_Mrs. C.N. runs to window and calls, "Charles, Charles."_

_Nokes [aside]._ I think I've had quite as much champagne as is good for
me; just enough; the golden mean.

_Enter CHARLES with baby, which he holds at full stretch of his
arms._

_Nokes [indignantly]._ You young scoundrel! How dare you show your face
in this house?

_Mrs. C.N. [interfering]._ You sent for him, sir.

_Nokes._ I sent for nothing of the sort. I sent for your husband.

_Mrs. C.N._ That is my husband, sir, and our little child. You promised
us an asylum for life under your roof; and I am certain you will keep
your word.

_Nokes [to Susan, endeavoring to be severe]._ Now, this is all _your_
fault; and yet you promised me never to interfere on behalf of these
people.

_Susan_. Nor _did_ I, my dear husband. You have done it all yourself.

_Nokes [aside]._ It was all that last glass of champagne.

_Charles [giving up the baby to his wife, and coming up with
outstretched hand to his uncle]._ Come, sir, pray forgive me. I could
not enjoy your favors without your forgiveness, believe me.

_Nokes [holding out his hand unwillingly]._ There. [_Aside_] How _could_
I be such a fool, knowing so well what champagne is made of?--Well, sir,
if you have regained your place here, remember it has all happened
through your aunt's goodness. Let nobody ever show any of their airs to
my Susan.

_Charles and his wife [together]._ We shall never forget her kindness,
sir.

_Nokes._ Mind you don't, then. For, you see, it's to her own
disadvantage, since when I die--and supposing I have forgiven you--the
child that has to grow will inherit everything, and Susan only have a
life-interest in it.

_Charles [hopefully]._ I don't see that, sir. Why shouldn't you have
children of your own?

_Nokes [complacently]._ True, true. Why shouldn't we? I didn't like to
dwe