JONATH. Very well; only we must look sharp about it; our drawing rooms and second floor give a party to-night. Dear, dear! only to think of the swaps and changes of this mortal life! I recollect our drawing rooms and second floor, Mr. Bunny, going about the streets of London, crying, "Hare skins--rabbit skins!" PHOEBE. And now he's a retired furrier, with no end of money! I only wish I was rich! JONATH. Phoebe, allow me to remind you, that when your parents sent you up from Cambridge--celebrated for its university and its sausages--it was in order to cure you of your nonsensical notions of finery and grandeur. (_on L._) PHOEBE. No such thing! JONATH. No such thing! when you were actually trying to entrap the affections of a young man, considerably higher up the social ladder than yourself! PHOEBE. What, Triptolemus Brown! he was only assistant to a chemist and druggist, after all. Poor dear Trip, many's the cake of soap and box of hair pins he's given me. Mark my words, uncle Jonathan, I know he'll come up to London and find me out--I'm sure of it, and then---- BUNNY. (_without_) Jonathan! JONATH. (_paying no attention_) And then--only let me catch him coming after you, and if I don't give him one for his nob---- (_flourishing his broom_) _The little door, L. C., opens, and as BUNNY enters, JONATHAN'S broom falls on his hat, and bonnets him._ BUNNY. (_shouting_) Help! murder! JONATH. (_raising up BUNNY'S hat_) Mr. Bunny! BUNNY. Jonathan! How is it, sir, that I find myself obliged to scramble up in the dark to the top of my own house--to the very attics, after my own servant? and when I find my own servant, my own servant breaks my own broom handle over my own head? PHOEBE. It's my fault, Mr. Bunny; I asked uncle, as a particular favour, to come up here. BUNNY. But I presume you didn't ask uncle, as a particular favour, to demolish my new hat! (_shewing his hat smashed_) JONATH. Oh! if that's all, I can pay for it; about five and ninepence, I suppose. (_putting his hand into his breeches pocket_) BUNNY. Jonathan, my ball opens at eight o'clock--it is now half-past six. Is it your intention, sir, to illuminate my drawing rooms, by lighting the gas, or must I perform that office myself. JONATH. I'm going, sir. PHOEBE. Oh, Mr. Bunny, if you would only let me have a peep at the fine ladies and gentlemen; besides, I might, perhaps, make myself useful. BUNNY. Very true! I will therefore entrust you, Miss Phoebe, with the custody of the negus. JONATH. (_aside_) Negus! a pint of South African Port to a gallon of water. BUNNY. You, Jonathan, will respond to the double-knocks, and announce the respective guests as they enter the drawing room--thus, (_announcing_) Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so; rather slow and very plain. JONATH. (_imitating_) "Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so; rather slow and very plain." All right, sir. (_going_)