COL. Proposed! ARTH. No! COL. Then how do you know she'd have you? ARTH. Of course I don't _know;_ but I think she _might._ COL. There's a conceited young puppy for you! ARTH. (_coaxingly_). Especially if you'll encourage my attentions--like my dear, kind old uncle! COL. Which your "dear, kind old uncle" doesn't intend to do. ARTH. You don't, eh? Very well, then listen to me! I shall do something desperate! COL. Wait till I get out of the room! (_Feeling his pulse._) I thought as much! Going like a windmill in a gale of wind! This excitement's too much for me, I must take a sedative! (_takes pillbox out of his pocket; opens it, and tosses two pills into his mouth one after the other_). And now, young fellow, listen to me. If you are so anxious to _settle,_ as you call it, better begin with your bootmaker! In a word, you don't marry yet with my consent. Marry _without_ it, and I leave every shilling I've got to--to the Society for the Suppression of Virtue--I mean the Propagation of Vice--I don't know what I'm talking about! (_swallows two more pills, and hurries out at R., slamming door violently after him_). ARTH. Just as easy to argue him out of his prejudices as it would be to make a Quaker kick his mother's-- Oh! here comes Myrtle! What a contrast!--he all apathy--she all impetuosity! Of course I shall have to give her an account of my morning's employment, as usual, which consists of breakfast--three slices of toast, a rasher of bacon, a couple of eggs, and a cup of coffee! and not a bad morning's work, either! _Enter MYRTLE at C. in morning dress--a large garden hat and gloves._ MYRT. Good-morning, Mr. Vallance! has nature no attractions for you, that you remain in-doors such a lovely day as this? Following your uncle's example, as usual, I presume? ARTH. On the contrary, I've been very hard at work, I assure you, trying to reduce my uncle's bump of obstinacy. MYRT. But in vain?--the _protuberance_ defied your efforts. And has that been your entire morning's work? ARTH. Physically, yes! Mentally, no! MYRT. The _physical_ we'll dismiss; the _mental_ consisting of--reading the newspaper, eh? (_smiling_). ARTH. What can a man do such weather as this? It's too hot to walk, too early for billiards--only fit for smoking. By-the-bye, I _did_ manage to get as far as the stables, where I had a cigar. MYRT. And this is the new leaf you promised me you would turn over--a tobacco-leaf! You are sadly deficient in energy, Mr. Vallance. ARTH. I confess it. But brought up as I was from my earliest infancy under my uncle-- MYRT. (_smiling_). Under your uncle? ARTH. Yes--(_suddenly_)--no, of course not. I mean under his _supervision_--how can I be otherwise than I am? He resents the slightest approach to activity as a slur on himself; and the highest compliment you can pay him is to yawn in his face (_checking a yawn with difficulty_). MYRT. I beg pardon--I'm afraid I'm in the way.