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