COSTUMES.

Patience Plunkett. A very girlish attire, with an old face strongly marked; red hair, with corkscrew ringlets.

Job Seedling. Dark pants, rather short, white jacket, apron, stockings and shoes.

Other characters appropriately dressed.

Scene.—Music-room at Rosebush Institute; piano, back, C.; lounge or sofa, L.; arm-chair, R.; two or three chairs, R. and L. Entrance from R.

(Enter Bessie Travers and Lucy Woods.)

Bessie. Madam Solfa has really gone off in a pet? Lucy. Yes: because poor me could not run up the musical scale with celerity,—in fact, stuck fast at the bottom,—her highness complained to Mrs. Candor; and Mrs. Candor—bless her!—took my part. "If the poor child cannot sing, let her alone."—"But se most be made to seeng," says madam; "and se weel steek to 'do,' and go no furzer."—"Well, let her stick there, if she likes. Her father's a baker, and she has a perfect right to stick to dough, if she likes it." So madam, shocked at the levity of our delightful preceptress, put on her bonnet and shawl, and vanished in a blaze of fury. Bessie. O Lucy, you have driven the poor lady away! Lucy. But she won't be gone long, depend upon it; for she left her baggage behind, and there's a quarter's salary due her. Bessie. And we must go without our lesson to-day. Lucy. I'm glad of it. There's no music in my soul. I must be "fit for treason and conspiracies." Bessie. You are the smartest girl in the school, Lucy, with this inharmonious exception. Lucy. I the smartest? You flatter me; and you forget our aged schoolmate, Patience Plunkett. Bessie. Aged! Why, Lucy, what could have possessed that mature—to speak mildly—female to class herself with young girls like us? Lucy. I'm sure I don't know; but Maria Mellish, who is always fishing out mysteries, told me her father, a farmer, has recently made a mint of money; and Patience has a foolish idea that she can procure an education, even at her age, and so entered Rosebush Institute as a pupil. Bessie. Poor thing! she is the laughing-stock of the school, and cannot be made to see it. Lucy. She has one devoted admirer, Job Seedling. The silly gander is evidently in love, and takes no pains to conceal it. At the table he forgets his occupation, and stands staring at her. Bessie. She certainly receives a great deal of attention, and all the tidbits, there. (Enter Maria Mellish, R.) Maria. O girls! I have found it out at last. Only think of it! a romance in Rosebush Institute! Yes: now, don't speak of this,—Job Seedling, the meek, patient Job, is a prince in disguise. Bessie. A prince? Nonsense. Maria. Well, not exactly a prince; but Hopps the milkman told me that Johnson the butcher told him that Bates the expressman told him that Patience Plunkett belongs in Razorly, and that his agent there told him that Job Seedling was the son of a rich farmer; that he got desperately enamoured of Patience, and followed her here, taking a menial situation that he might be near the object of his love. Isn't it splendid? Lucy. Splendid. If Mrs. Candor should hear of this, I fear that Job would have to give up his menial situation for a meaner.

Augusta.		Is he very sick?
Maria.	(Together.)	Is he going to die?
Lucy.		Is he dangerous?

Augusta.		Will school close?
Maria.	(Together.)	Shall we have a holiday?
Lucy.		Will you send us home?

[Exit.

With fair, bewitching Patience Plunkett

I'm in love. Who would have thunk it?

[Exit, R.

[Runs off R.

"Two roses on one stalk!"

Curtain.