O’Fi. There’s an ungrateful daughter to refuse Whipple, and me pinched for money till I can hardly raise an egg for breakfast. But she shan’t have Tom Cobb anyhow. I’ll see to that! A pretty kettle of fish I’m boiling for myself. When I’ve sent Tom Cobb about his business, what’ll the ongrateful villain do? Why, he’ll sue on them bills o’ mine, as if I’d never bin the next thing to a father-in-law to him! But that’s the way with mean and thankless naturs. Do ’em an injustice and they’re never satisfied till they’ve retaliated!
Enter Matilda with letter, and pretending to cry.
Mat. Papa dear, I’ve bad news for you.
O’Fi. Bad news? At whose suit?
Mat. It ain’t that, dear; it’s my Tom.
O’Fi. And what’s the scamp been doin’ now?
Mat. The scamp’s bin dyin’.
O’Fi. Dying? What d’ye mean?
Mat. I mean Tom’s dead.