Charles. I assure you, Mr. Twitters, I did nothing of the sort.
Clara. By no means, papa dear. He came to see me; and he is going to ask you—
Twitters. I see what he’s at. I consider your behavior surreptitious, sir. What have you to recommend you?
Clara. He has my love, papa dear. That’s all you have but a little money. Now be a dear, good, sweet papa.
Twitters. Sweet! Oh—42,000 grains—I have your love, then?
Clara. Why, yes, papa.
Twitters. Very good. I don’t choose to share it. Your conduct is little better than robbery, sir. You ought to blush redder than the bottles that conceal the poverty of your stock in trade.
Charles. My calling is respectable, sir.
Twitters. Then follow its example in your conduct, sir.
Charles. I shall, sir. (Going.)