Abigail. Alfred Tennyson.
Dr. A. (reading).
"When I can shoot my rifle clear
To pigeons in the skies,
I'll bid farewell to pork and beans,
And live on pigeon pies."
A. Tennyson."
Abigail. Exquisite poet!
Dr. A. I admire his taste.
Abigail. Now, dear doctor, I would add one other name to my valuable collection. You can aid me. Will you? O, say you will—will you? and take the burden from the heart of a lone orphan.
Dr. A. Madam, or miss, I should be very happy to assist you—
Abigail. O, rapturous answer! O, noble disciple of Æsculapius! The lips of the lone orphan will bless you; the tears of the lone orphan shall bless you; the smiles of the lone orphan—