Mrs Nutts. A lighthouse of! A lighthouse! How?
Tickle. Why, by fitting up a revolving light inside the statue’s head, to warn ships from sands and rocks.
Slowgoe. And after all, I, for one, should have no objection to it. After all, ’twould be a very pretty compliment to the aristocracy o’ the land. (Rising from his chair.) For are they not the lights and beacons that in time of danger——
Nutts. Come, none o’ that nonsense in this place. We’re none of us Lord Georges here.
Slowgoe. Mr Nutts, I have once, remember—once left your shop.
Nutts. Well, I never care to balk a customer, not I; so you may take it even numbers if you like.
Mrs Nutts. Don’t mind him, Mr Slowgoe; he’s a man as hates all authority. Talks, too, about the perlitical principles! All very well and very fine for bachelors, but I should very much like to know what men with wives and families have to do with principles at all—eh, Mr Peabody? You who’ve been a schoolmaster can answer that, I should think.
Peabody. Very true, Mrs Nutts; for the great Lord Bacon—you have heard of him—eh, Mrs Nutts?
Mrs Nutts. No doubt on it; but I can’t bring him to mind just now.
Peabody. The great Lord Bacon was accustomed over his wine to say, that the man who had a wife and children had given hostages to fortune.