_Tom._ Whipple! Whipple with a carriage! A fool, an impostor, a quack, with a carriage! What does he want to come flaunting his one-horse fly in my face for? There, I actually did that man’s botany papers for him at the College, and now he’s rolling in fever patients,--literally _rolling_ in fever patients,--while I haven’t one to my back! _Mat._ Well, maybe he’ll help ye if ye ask him. He’s a pleasant man. _Tom._ Pleasant, is he? I don’t know what you call pleasant. Why, there’s a squalid old pauper idiot, a patient of his, who’s got no name of his own, and Whipple christened him Tom Cobb, because he says he’s the ugliest old lunatic he ever saw and reminds him of me. And all the boys in the neighbourhood have taken it up, and he’s been known as Tom Cobb for the last two years. That’s pleasant of Whipple. _Mat._ Sure, it’s his joke. _Tom._ Yes, I know it’s his joke, but I don’t like his joke. One Tom Cobb’s enough at a time, and--(_taking out pistol_)--if I was only quite, quite sure I knew how to load it, I’d snuff one of ’em out this minute. I would; upon my word and honour, I would! [_Exit COBB._ _Mat._ Poor Tom! He’s an innocent boy, and he’s fond of me, and I like him too, and it’s a pity he ain’t rich. And now who’s the gentleman with the command of ready money who’s proposed for me, I’d like to know? _Enter BIDDY._ _Bid._ Mr. Whipple. [_Exit BIDDY._ _Enter WHIPPLE._ _Whi._ Miss Matilda, don’t think me premature for calling, but I came because I really couldn’t wait any longer. _Mat._ And ye did right; sit ye down. _Whi._ I couldn’t help it; you’re not angry? (_Sits._) _Mat._ Not I! If ye couldn’t help it, what were ye to do? (_Sits._) _Whi._ I declare I haven’t slept a wink all night from anxiety. _Mat._ Would ye like to take a snooze on the sofa? _Whi._ A snooze? Miss Matilda, hasn’t your father told you? _Mat._ Told me--told me what? _Whi._ Why, that I---- _Mat._ Ye niver mean to sit there and tell me ye’re the young gintleman of high family, unblemished morals, and considerable command of ready money? _Whi._ That’s me--he _has_ told you. Yes, Miss Matilda, I have dared---- _Mat._ But don’t ye know I’m engaged to your friend, Tom Cobb? _Whi._ Tom Cobb! Yes, I know you are. A mule, a clod, an unsuccessful clod. Yes, I know he’s tied to you as a log is tied to the leg of a runaway donkey. I beg your pardon--I don’t mean that; but you can’t really love him? _Mat._ ’Deed, and I like him very well then. He’s a good boy. But tell me now--is it bills? _Whi._ (_rather taken aback_). Well, yes; since you put it like that, it _is_ bills. _Mat._ Then I tell ye what, Mr. Whipple; I’m tired of being handed over with stamped paper. _Whi._ (_earnestly_). There was _no_ stamp on it; indeed, there was no stamp on it. It was an I.O.U.