PAWKINS. Him’s it! So he’s your papa, is he? Well then, I say you do him credit: I say it afore your face, and I wouldn’t mind saying it behind your back.
AGATHA. (aside) A singularly vulgar person! but ’pa does pick up such strange friends in the City.
PAWKINS. Before we go any further I should like to settle one pint: I’ve picked up this here gimcrack thing on the staircase. (producing bracelet from his coat pocket)
AGATHA. (R., catches it from his hand) My aunt’s bracelet! My dear sir, a thousand—thousand thanks!
Exit AGATHA, C.
PAWKINS. A thousand, thousand thanks!—my dear sir, too! Uncommon pretty behaved young person!—a child will take a deal of whipping afore it gets up to that pint of good manners. A shilling slipped in one’s hand would have given a finishing touch to the compliment; but one can’t have it all one’s own way; then her pretty smile were worth more nor a shilling a precious sight. Ah, bless her heart! she’d ha’ know’d fast enough that the man who picks up bracelets, and gives them to the right owner, ain’t exactly the sort of article as prigs watches.
Re-enter DE WINDSOR, C., and down, L.
DE W. (L.) Really a charming scene! most exhilarating! (sees PAWKINS, R.) Eh! why, he’s here at last! Pawkins, the persecuted! (shakes his hand violently) My dear sir, I’m delighted to see you.
PAWKINS. (wringing his hand) Thank you; but draw it a little mild.
DE W. (L.) Mr. Pawkins, you are one of the men I like.