Mr. H. I shall thank you if you will teach me, for my Kate, the words of that song your sister was singing when we came in.
Owen. I believe it’s to flatter me you say this, for that song is my writing.
Mr. H. Yours?
Owen. Mine, such as it is.
Mr. H. Sic a ane as you are then, I’m glad you are not to be a bugle-boy: your sister is right.
Owen. I’ll teach you the words as we go along.
Mr. H. Do so;—but mind now this song-writing do not lead you to idleness. We must see to turn your edication to good account. (Aside) Oh, I will never rest till I pay my brother’s debt, some way or other, to this gude family.
{Exeunt.