Exit, L. C.
SWEET. (rising and rubbing his hands) Come, that’s nicely arranged—we shall have a charming ride over to Dulwich, see the pictures, and get back in plenty of time to dress before we start to dine with Billington, and then with the box at the opera, which he has so politely presented us with, we shall have made out the day, in a very superior, and I think I may almost venture to say, aristocratic manner. Come ladies, make haste, get your habits on, or the horses will be here before you are ready, and you know I can’t bear to be kept waiting.
MRS. SWEET. I like that vastly.
SWEET. What’s the matter?
MRS. SWEET. You can’t bear to be kept waiting! but you don’t mind keeping other people waiting—then, too, I am to be ordered about at beck and call—everything arranged for me beforehand!—I think at least you might have enquired whether I felt disposed to join you.
MRS. SHORT. Oh, I’m sure, Fanny——
SWEET. Why, my dear Mrs. Sweet, you heart the whole thing canvassed this morning between me and Mrs. Short, and you never made the smallest objection. Besides, haven’t I only just made you a present of a magnificent riding habit—cost me ten pounds—and one of the most wicked little wide-awakes in the world, with a bunch of cock’s feathers, all drooping over the crown! Come, now, you know you are dying to put them on.
MRS. SWEET. You think so, do you!
SWEET. Yes, to be sure I do—you know you’re an arrant coquette.
MRS. SWEET. I sir!—a coquette.