Miss Nev. Agreeable cousin! Who can help admiring that natural humour, that pleasant, broad, red, thoughtless, (patting his cheek) ah! it's a bold face.
Mrs. Hard. Pretty innocence!
Tony. I'm sure I always loved cousin Con's hazel eyes, and her pretty long fingers, that she twists this way and that, over the haspicholls, like a parcel of bobbins.
Mrs. Hard. Ah, he would charm the bird from the tree. I was never so happy before. My boy takes after his father, poor Mr. Lumpkin, exactly. The jewels, my dear Con, shall be yours incontinently. You shall have them. Isn't he a sweet boy, my dear? You shall be married to-morrow, and we'll put off the rest of his education, like Mr. Drowsy's sermons, to a fitter opportunity.
Enter Diggory.
Digg. Where's the 'squire? I have got a letter for your worship.
Tony. Give it to my mamma. She reads all my letters first.
Digg. I had orders to deliver it into your own hands.
Tony. Who does it come from?
Digg. Your worship mun ask that o' the letter itself.