_Lady Belledame_ (_discovered preparing parcels_). Old and unloved!--yes the longer I live, the more plainly do I perceive that I am _not_ a popular old woman. Have I not acquired the reputation in the County of being a witch? My neighbour, Sir Vevey Long, asked me publicly only the other day “when I would like my broom ordered,” and that minx, Lady Violet Powdray, has pointedly mentioned old cats in my hearing! Pergament, my family lawyer, has declined to act for me any longer, merely because Monkshood rack-rented some of the tenants a little too energetically in the Torture Chamber--as if in these hard times one was not justified in putting the screw on! Then the villagers scowl when I pass; the very children shrink from me--[_A childish Voice outside window,_ “Yah, ’oo sold ’erself to Old Bogie for a pound o’ tea an’ a set o’ noo teeth?”]--that is, when they do not insult me by suggestions of bargains that are not even businesslike! No matter--I will be avenged upon them all--ay, all! ’Tis Christmas-time--the season at which sentimental fools exchange gifts and good wishes. For once I, too, will distribute a few seasonable presents.... (_Inspecting parcels._) Are my arrangements complete? The bundle of choice cigars, in each of which a charge of nitro-glycerine has been dexterously inserted? The lip-salve, made up from my own prescription with corrosive sublimate by a venal chemist in the vicinity? The art flower-pot, containing a fine specimen of the Upas plant, swathed in impermeable sacking? The sweets compounded with sugar of lead? The packet of best ratsbane? Yes, nothing has been omitted. Now to summon my faithful Monkshood.... Ha! he is already at hand. [_Chord as_ MONKSHOOD _enters_. _Monkshood._ Your Ladyship, a child, whose sole luggage is a small bandbox and a large banjo, is without, and requests the favour of a personal interview. _Lady B._ (_reproachfully_). And you, who have been with me all these years, and know my ways, omitted to let loose the bloodhounds? You grow careless, Monkshood! _Monks._ (_wounded_). Your Ladyship is unjust--I _did_ unloose the bloodhounds; but the ferocious animals merely sat up and begged. The child had took the precaution to provide herself with a bun! _Lady B._ No matter, she must be removed--I care not how. _Monks._ There may be room for one more--a little one--in the old well. The child mentioned that she was your Ladyship’s granddaughter, but I presume that will make no difference? _Lady B._ (_disquieted_). What!--then she must be the child of my only son Poldoodle, whom, for refusing to cut off the entail, I had falsely accused of adulterating milk, and transported beyond the seas! She comes hither to denounce and reproach me! Monkshood, she must not leave this place alive--you hear? _Monks._ I require no second bidding--ha, the child ... she comes! [_Chord. Little_ ELFIE _trips in with touching self-confidence._