TOM. And in worse hands they could not be; sir, do give up this scheme. You fall in love with a young lady at a boarding school, correspond with her under a feigned name—
RECK. Yes, you know that arose from the fear of my cousin, old Guineamore, hearing of these matters. I dared not trust my own lady love. You are aware I have immense expectations from him, and that he hates anything like adventures.
TOM. Yes, and Reginald de Mowbray is a much prettier name than Ralph Reckless, but where was I? Oh, a feigned name. Well, the young lady’s governess finds out the correspondence, and very properly sends her to her guardians, who takes her into the country, also very properly; give up this scheme, sir—
RECK. Not I; when I have found the retreat of my charmer, the cavern where the treasure is hid, shall I be craven knight enough to fear the dragon that guards it? No, man, not I—so if you have not better advice to give, we’ll change the subject. What the devil is that great basket for?
TOM. What? oh, that is an affair of the heart; you have confided all your tender secrets to me, therefore I will do the same to you, sir, if you will allow me.
RECK. Certainly, good Thomas, go on.
TOM. Why, a sort of a relation of mine—a grocer, died the other day, without a will, and his stock in trade got divided among six of us. I have borrowed this large crate from Delfs, the crockery-warehouseman, to stow my share in; and am thinking I could not do the genteel thing better, (as my sweetheart Fanny’s in service, and has to find such articles out of her wages,) than to make her a delicate present of the groceries, to sweeten my progress in her affections—eh, sir?
RECK. Delicate indeed! that I should have so gallant a man in my service; and where does this happy maiden reside?
TOM. You see that white house, the other side of the water? one of those houses in the water.