MRS. J. Good gracious! And how did you come to think of it?
O’WALKER. By study, Mrs. Jellicoe—by intense study. I shut myself up in my room for three months, and the result of that confinement was a bolus.
MRS. J. And what do they cure?
O’WALKER. Everything—if you only take plenty of ’em! I used to make ’em up myself at starting, but so eagerly were they swallowed that now I’ve got three men and a boy up to their elbows in boluses all day long. Now, I’ll explain my system: these boluses are so composed that the more you take of ’em the worse you get—still you persevere—and when you’re as ill as you can be you leave ’em off, and from that moment you begin to get well; I don’t know why you should, but you do—that’s my system! But enough of business—now for pleasure. When is the happy day to be? Fanny, my fond one, my fair one, when will it be your happy lot to call me yours?
FANNY. (R.) Ask mamma!
MRS. J. Come and dine with us to-morrow, Mr. O’Walker, and we will talk about it. (suddenly and solemnly) I hope your moral character will bear the strictest scrutiny, Mr. O’Walker. You say you have no debts?
O’WALKER. (proudly) If you doubt my word, Mrs. Jellicoe, I refer you to my milkman.
FANNY. (tenderly) And I’m the only woman you ever loved?
O’WALKER. The only one—except my mother.
BEADLE appears, L.