_Mat._ And ain’t ye engaged to a rale cornel’s daughter? And isn’t _that_ something to live for? (_Goes to table and cuts bread and butter._) _Tom_ (_seated_). Oh, I’ve plenty to live _for_, but I’ve nothing to live _on_. Upon my word, Matilda, when you come to think of it, it _is_ a most extraordinary thing that I can’t get any patients! I’m a qualified practitioner, right enough! I’ve passed the College of Surgeons! _Mat._ So have I, dear, often. _Tom._ You can’t be more a surgeon than I am, put it how you will; but nobody seems to know it, and I’m sure I don’t know how to tell ’em. I can’t send sandwich men about with advertisements--the College wouldn’t like that. I can’t hang placards out from a real colonel’s balcony, “Walk up, walk up, this is the Shop for Amputations!” or, “To married couples and others”--the Horse Guards wouldn’t like that. (_Taking up carving-knife._) Upon my word, Matilda, when I look at you, and reflect that there isn’t an operation in the whole range of practical surgery that I shouldn’t be delighted to perform upon you at five minutes’ notice for nothing, why, it _does_ seem a most extraordinary thing that I can’t get any patients! _Enter COLONEL O’FIPP, in seedy, showy dressing-gown._ _O’Fi._ Good mornin’, Thomas; Matilda, my own, the mornin’ to ye. (_Kisses her._) Breakfast ready? That’s well. Good appetite, Thomas? (_They sit to breakfast._) _Tom._ Tremendous. (_Taking an egg._) _O’Fi._ (_aside_). Then I’ll spile it for ye. (_Aloud._) Don’t crack that egg till you’re sure ye’ll want it. (_Takes it from him._) Thomas Cobb, I’m goin’ to have a wurr’d or two with ye about your prospects, sorr. _Tom._ Oh, Lord! (_Turns away from his breakfast._) _O’Fi._ When I gave my consint to yer engagement with me beautiful and beloved daughter---- Don’t cry, my child. _Mat._ No, pa. (_Takes an egg._) _O’Fi._ Ye tould me ye were about to purchase a practice; and, like a simple old soldier, I believed ye. _Mat._ Sure, and so he was. Didn’t ye introduce him to Ben Isaacs, and didn’t he lend him the money to do it? _Tom._ Which your papa immediately exchanged for bills. _O’Fi._ Which is another turr’m for money. _Tom._ Another term for money? _Mat._ Papa has always been accustomed to regard his I.O.U.’s as currency. _Tom._ Why, who do you suppose would sell me a practice for a bundle of your I.O.U.’s? _O’Fi._ My name, sorr, is considered in the City to be as good for a thousand pounds as for a hundred. _Mat._ Papa’s is one of the oldest names in the kingdom. _O’Fi._ Yes, sorr. And let me tell ye it’s on some of the oldest bills in the kingdom, too. Such is the value of my name that I suppose I have renewed oftener than any man aloive! And it isn’t every man that can say _that_! _Tom._ But when I try to discount your paper, capitalists always say, “Who’s O’Fipp?” And when I tell ’em he’s a colonel, they say, “What’s he a colonel of?” _O’Fi._ Colonel of a regiment, to be sure.