Dam. (Seeing him.) Hollo! there you are; come here, sir, and let me examine you.
Nig. (Advancing, C.) David, I will no longer allow this continued intrusion on my privacy; and, Miss Snare, I do not wish to offend, but really your continued calls upon me, at all hours, are somewhat indecorous. The neighbours begin to talk, and I must check them. What may you want this morning?
Miss Sna. I am sure, sir, I was not aware that my friendly visits could cause anybody to talk, or at least be annoying to you; however, I shall not intrude again—you know why I called yesterday.
Nig. To give me a pincushion, made by yourself, in the form of a heart.
Dam. A dead set at you, John, clear as daylight—a dead set at you. Oh! miss, I’m ashamed of you.
Miss Sna. For what, sir? He complained, a few days since, that he was without a pincushion, and could never recollect to purchase one; and where was the harm, sir, in my supplying such a trifling want: I shall not be so attentive again, be assured. As for my call this morning, it was on parish business—a motive of charity; but since my little acts of friendship are so sternly checked, of course those of charity must suffer at the same time. And I did hope to have your company to tea, to-morrow.
Nig. Well, well, I know and appreciate your motives; but you always contrive to call when I’m occupied, when I don’t want to be disturbed—and this morning, I particularly wish to be quite alone. (Double knock without.) Another call! Dear, dear, that is the worst of being a bachelor; everybody walks into his house whenever they please—no announcement, no ceremony, in they bounce with—“How are you? how do? only me.” And sit themselves down, and take up this, and throw down that. Oh, I wish I had the courage to take a wife. (Looking at his watch.) How the time is getting on—quarter past nine—we were to have been at church at ten, the latest. (MISS KITTY SKYLARK heard without, running a cadence.) Oh, dear! it’s that abominable singing lady; what the deuce brings her here? Her conversation is so interspersed with singing, that she’s a complete human burletta—I shall never get rid of her. How shall I escape out of the house.
MISS KITTY SKYLARK enters, F.E.L., with a roll of music in her hand.
Miss Sky. Oh, good morning, good people—didn’t expect to find any one here so early. I’ve got it for you, Mr. Niggle.
Nig. Got what?