_Susan [gravely]._ She knows all about it, husband. That lady is the daughter of my benefactor, Mr. Woodward, to whom I owed everything on earth till I met you. _Nokes [with enthusiasm, and holding out both hands]._ The deuce she is! I am most uncommonly glad to see you, ma'am, under this roof. [_Aside to Susan_] She don't look very prosperous, Susan: if there's anything that money can get for her, I'll see she has it; mind that. _Susan [aloud]._ She is poor, sir, and much in need of home and friends. _Nokes [to Mrs. C.N.]._ Then you have found them here, ma'am. You're a fixture at "the Tamarisks" for life, if it so pleases you. _Mrs. C.N._ You are most kind, sir, but I have a husband and one _little_ child. _Nokes._ Never mind that: he'll grow. There's room here for you and your husband and the little child, even if he does grow. Where are they? Show them up. _Mrs. C.N. runs to window and calls, "Charles, Charles."_ _Nokes [aside]._ I think I've had quite as much champagne as is good for me; just enough; the golden mean. _Enter CHARLES with baby, which he holds at full stretch of his arms._ _Nokes [indignantly]._ You young scoundrel! How dare you show your face in this house? _Mrs. C.N. [interfering]._ You sent for him, sir. _Nokes._ I sent for nothing of the sort. I sent for your husband. _Mrs. C.N._ That is my husband, sir, and our little child. You promised us an asylum for life under your roof; and I am certain you will keep your word. _Nokes [to Susan, endeavoring to be severe]._ Now, this is all _your_ fault; and yet you promised me never to interfere on behalf of these people. _Susan_. Nor _did_ I, my dear husband. You have done it all yourself. _Nokes [aside]._ It was all that last glass of champagne. _Charles [giving up the baby to his wife, and coming up with outstretched hand to his uncle]._ Come, sir, pray forgive me. I could not enjoy your favors without your forgiveness, believe me. _Nokes [holding out his hand unwillingly]._ There. [_Aside_] How _could_ I be such a fool, knowing so well what champagne is made of?--Well, sir, if you have regained your place here, remember it has all happened through your aunt's goodness. Let nobody ever show any of their airs to my Susan. _Charles and his wife [together]._ We shall never forget her kindness, sir. _Nokes._ Mind you don't, then. For, you see, it's to her own disadvantage, since when I die--and supposing I have forgiven you--the child that has to grow will inherit everything, and Susan only have a life-interest in it. _Charles [hopefully]._ I don't see that, sir. Why shouldn't you have children of your own? _Nokes [complacently]._ True, true. Why shouldn't we? I didn't like to dwell upon the idea before, but why shouldn't we? At all events, Susan [_comes forward with Susan_], I am sure I shall never repent having shot at the pigeon--I mean, having wooed the Montmorenci, but won THE SUBSTITUTE. JAMES PAYN. NEW YORK LIBRARIES