MILLIKEN.—My dear mother! My dear Lady Kicklebury! [To T., who has come forward.] They spar so every night they meet, Touchit. Ain't it hard?
LADY K.—I say you DO take care of Mr. Bonnington, Mrs. Bonnington, my dear creature! and that is why you can't attend to Horace. And as he is of a very easy temper—except sometimes with his poor Arabella's mother—he allows all his tradesmen to cheat him, all his servants to cheat him, Howell to be rude to everybody—to me amongst other people, and why not to my servant Bulkeley, with whom Lord Toddleby's groom of the chambers gave me the very highest character.
MRS. B.—I'm surprised that noblemen HAVE grooms in their chambers. I should think they were much better in the stables. I am sure I always think so when we dine with Doctor Clinker. His man does bring such a smell of the stable with him.
LADY K.—He! he! you mistake, my dearest creature! Your poor mother mistakes, my good Horace. You have lived in a quiet and most respectable sphere—but not—not—
MRS. B.—Not what, Lady Kicklebury? We have lived at Richmond twenty years—in my late husband's time—when we saw a great deal of company, and when this dear Horace was a dear boy at Westminster School. And we have PAID for everything we have had for twenty years, and we have owed not a penny to any TRADESMAN, though we mayn't have had POWDERED FOOTMEN SIX FEET HIGH, who were impertinent to all the maids in the place—Don't! I WILL speak, Horace—but servants who loved us, and who lived in our families.
MILLIKEN.—Mamma, now, my dear, good old mother! I am sure Lady Kicklebury meant no harm.
LADY K.—Me! my dear Horace! harm! What harm could I mean?
MILLIKEN.—Come! let us have a game at whist. Touchit, will you make a fourth? They go on so every night almost. Ain't it a pity, now?
TOUCHIT.—Miss Prior generally plays, doesn't she?
MILLIKEN.—And a very good player, too. But I thought you might like it.