Harry. Dilly, you have a relative living.
Dilly. A relative?
Harry. Yes, a grandfather. Your father died in California: I know his history. Your mother is also dead. Your father’s name was William Butts.
Butts. And I’m your grandfather. O Dilly, Dilly! who’d have thought it?
Dilly. You my grandfather!
Harry. There is no mistake: you are his grandchild. I have the proofs.
Butts. Come right here and kiss me. Who would have thought it? Why, Dilly, this accounts for your being such a thief-taker: it runs in the blood.
Bob. (Aside.) Precious little inheritance in that line she received from you.
Dilly. You my grandfather! Is it possible? Then I am really somebody after all.