GEORGE.—You mean Adolphus and Frederick and Amelia, your children. Well, they shall have marmalade and cake.
BELLA.—Oh, yes! I'll give them mine.
MRS. P.—Darling, dearest child!
GEORGE [his mouth full].—I won't give 'em mine: but they can have another pot, you know. You have always got a basket with you, Mrs. Prior. I know you have. You had it that day you took the cold fowl.
MRS. P.—For the poor blind black man! oh, how thankful he was!
GEORGE.—I don't know whether it was for a black man. Mary, get us another pot of marmalade.
MARY.—I don't know, Master George.
GEORGE.—I WILL have another pot of marmalade. If you don't, I'll—I'll smash everything—I will.
BELLA.—Oh, you naughty, rude boy!
GEORGE.—Hold YOUR tongue! I WILL have it. Mary shall go and get it.