Miss P. Indeed!—impudent young wretches.
Little P. Yes, aunt, and so I resolved you should no longer be thought so—for I think you are a great deal too young, and too handsome for an old maid. (taking her hand)
Pick. Come, sister, i’faith you must forgive him, no female heart can withstand that.
Miss P. Brother, you know I can forgive where I see occasion; but though these faults are thus excused, how will you answer to a charge of scandal and ill-nature.
Little P. Ill-nature, madam—I’m sure nobody can accuse me of that.
Miss P. How will you justify the report you spread, of my being locked up in my closet with Mr. Tagg, the author—can you defend so vile an attempt to injure my reputation?
Pick. What, that too, I suppose, was from your care of her character—and so to hinder your aunt from being an old maid, you locked her up in her closet with this author, as he is called.
Little P. Nay, indeed, dear madam, I beseech you—’twas no such thing, all I said was, you were amusing yourself in your closet with a favourite author.
Miss P. I amuse myself in my closet with a favourite author! worse and worse.