_Elfie_ (_in a charming little Cockney accent_). Yes, Grandma, it’s me--little Elfie, come all the way from Australia to see you, because I thought you must be sow lownly all by yourself! My Papa often told me what a long score he owed you, and how he hoped to pay you off if he lived. But he went out to business one day--Pa was a bushranger, you know, and worked--oh, _so_ hard; and never came back to his little Elfie, so poor little Elfie has come to live with you! _Monks._ Will you have the child removed now, my Lady? _Lady B._ (_undecidedly_). Not now--not yet; I have other work for you. These Christmas gifts, to be distributed amongst my good friends and neighbours (_handing parcels_). First, this bundle of cigars to Sir Vevey Long with my best wishes that such a connoisseur in tobacco may find them sufficiently strong. The salve for Lady Violet Powdray, with my love, and it should be rubbed on the last thing at night. The plant you will take to the little Pergaments--’twill serve them for a Christmas tree. This packet to be diluted in a barrel of beer, which you will see broached upon the village green; these sweetmeats for distribution among the most deserving of the school-children. _Elfie_ (_throwing her arms around Lady B.’s neck_). I _do_ like you, Grandma, you have such a kind face! And oh, what pains you must have taken to find something that will do for everybody! _Lady B._ (_disengaging herself peevishly_). Yes, yes, child. I trust that what I have chosen will indeed do for everybody,--but I do not like to be messed about. Monkshood, you know what you have to do. _Elfie._ Oh, I am sure he does, Grandma! See how benevolently he smiles. You’re such a good old man, you will take care that all the poor people are fed, _won’t_ you? [Illustration: Little Elfie.] _Monks._ (_with a sinister smile_). Ah! Missie, I’ve ’elped to settle a many people’s ’ash in my time! _Elfie_ (_innocently_). What, do they all get hash? How nice! I like hash,--but what else do you give them? _Monks._ (_grimly_). Gruel, Missie. (_Aside._) I must get out of this, or this innocent child’s prattle will unman me! [_Exit with parcels._ _Elfie._ You seem so sad and troubled, Grandma. Let me sing you one of the songs with which I drew a smile from poor dear Pa in happier days. _Lady B._ No, no, some other time. (_Aside._) Pshaw! why should I dread the effect of her simple melodies? (_Aloud._) Sing, child, if you will. _Elfie._ How glad I am that I brought my banjo! [_Sings._ _Dar is a lubly yaller gal dat tickles me to deff; She’ll dance de room ob darkies down, and take away deir breff. When she sits down to supper, ebery coloured gemple-man, As she gets her upper lip o’er a plate o’ “possom dip,” cries, “Woa, Lucindy Ann!”_ (Chorus, dear Granny!) _Chorus._