K.—Won't it, that's all!
LADY K.—At his insolence, my temper is high; so is yours, my dear. Calm it for the present, especially as regards Howell.
K.—Gad! d'you know I was very nearly pitching into him? But once, one night in the Haymarket, at a lobster-shop, where I was with some fellows, we chaffed some other fellows, and there was one fellah—quite a little fellah—and I pitched into him, and he gave me the most confounded lickin' I ever had in my life, since my brother Kicklebury licked me when we were at Eton; and that, you see, was a lesson to me, ma'am. Never trust those little fellows, never chaff 'em: dammy, they may be boxers.
LADY K.—You quarrelsome boy! I remember you coming home with your naughty head SO bruised. [Looks at watch.] I must go now to take my drive. [Exit LADY K.]
K.—I owe a doose of a tick at that billiard-room; I shall have that boatman dunnin' me. Why hasn't Milliken got any horses to ride? Hang him! suppose he can't ride—suppose he's a tailor. He ain't MY tailor, though, though I owe him a doosid deal of money. There goes mamma with that darling nephew and niece of mine. [Enter BULKELEY]. Why haven't you gone with my lady, you, sir? [to Bulkeley.]
BULKELEY.—My lady have a-took the pony-carriage, sir; Mrs. Bonnington have a-took the hopen carriage and 'orses, sir, this mornin', which the Bishop of London is 'olding a confirmation at Teddington, sir, and Mr. Bonnington is attending the serimony. And I have told Mr. 'Owell, sir, that my lady would prefer the hopen carriage, sir, which I like the hexercise myself, sir, and that the pony-carriage was good enough for Mrs. Bonnington, sir; and Mr. 'Owell was very hinsolent to me, sir; and I don't think I can stay in the 'ouse with him.
K.—Hold your jaw, sir.
BULKELEY.—Yes, sir. [Exit BULKELEY.]
K.—I wonder who that governess is?—sang rather prettily last night—wish she'd come and sing now—wish she'd come and amuse me—I've seen her face before—where have I seen her face?—it ain't at all a bad one. What shall I do? dammy, I'll read a book: I've not read a book this ever so long. What's here? [looks amongst books, selects one, sinks down in easy-chair so as quite to be lost.]
Enter Miss PRIOR.