MRS. T. My reason is a very simple one. Her elder sister, Julia, must find a husband first.
COL. First come, first served—eh? Really, my dear Martha, I must say that, for a sensible woman, you are by many degrees the most prejudiced, the most self-willed, the most—
MRS. T. Of course I am! But you know very well that when I once do make up my mind to anything—
COL. You stick to it like a fly to a “catch-’em-alive-oh.”
MRS. T. I don’t choose that Julia should suffer what I did! I had a sister, Dorothy Jane, four years my junior, who married before I did—do you think that was pleasant?—who supplied me with a sprinkling of nephews and nieces before I had a husband—do you think that was pleasant?—who gave garden-parties, balls, concerts, to which all the world flocked, and surrounded her with flattery, adulation, while I was neglected, extinguished, regularly snuffed out. Do you think that was pleasant? Well, it is this humiliation that I am determined to spare Julia.
COL. Well, you didn’t lose much by waiting. I’m sure Tom Templeton was as good a creature as ever breathed—didn’t live long, poor fellow, but cut up remarkably well considering.
MRS. T. Leaving his two nieces, his brother’s children, to my charge, with ten thousand pounds each.
COL. As a wedding portion, which, I must say, you didn’t seem in a hurry to part with.
MRS. T. You know my conditions. You have only to find a husband for Julia.