Mr. S. I will have the papers made out, and be ready to take you to-morrow afternoon.
John. Send for Eliza Jones and her husband. They will not want to keep me either, I suppose—how can I expect them, when they are a great deal poorer than you? But send for them. I want to see them, and say good-bye, before I go away.
Mrs. S. Emeline, tell Parker to run across Jones’ for his Uncle Martin and Aunt Eliza.
[Exit Mrs. S.
John. If they do not treat me well at the poor-house, what shall I do? Cut stick and run off, or sue them for breach of promise?
Mr. S. (aside.) It seems to me, he takes it exceedingly cool. But it is better he should do so, than to make a noise about it. (To John.) I think you will be well treated. The Superintendent is very kind to all under his care, and is considered a perfect gentleman.
John. A gentleman! I’m glad of that. (Sarcastically.) Ah! Edward, it is a great thing to be a gentleman.
Mr. S. I am glad you are willing to go without making any fuss about it. You know people will talk; and they would talk a great deal more, if you should be opposed to going. I hope you will not think unkindly of us, because we have concluded to take this step; you see that we can not well keep you here; and as you are getting old, and are greatly afflicted with rheumatism, you will be better attended to there than you could be here.
John. Yes, yes, I understand. Don’t fret about me, Edward. I suppose it isn’t much difference where I live, and where I end my days. But, Edward, I think I would not have treated you so. However, one hardly knows what one will do when one comes to the pinch. If I had brought home a market-basket full of ninety-dollar gold pieces, perhaps I would not have taken up so much room in your house, nor crowded your children so dreadfully.
Enter Mrs. Simpson, and Mr. and Mrs. Jones.