_Mat._ Ye’re not goin’? _Car._ No; I have come to spend a long, long day. I’m going to take my bonnet off. (_Solemnly._) Dear Matilda, we have not met for many many years, and I long--I cannot tell you, Matilda, how earnestly I long--to see all your new things! [_Exeunt together, as O’FIPP enters._ _O’Fi._ There’s an ungrateful daughter to refuse Whipple, and me pinched for money till I can hardly raise an egg for breakfast. But she shan’t have Tom Cobb anyhow. I’ll see to that! A pretty kettle of fish I’m boiling for myself. When I’ve sent Tom Cobb about his business, what’ll the ongrateful villain do? Why, he’ll sue on them bills o’ mine, as if I’d never bin the next thing to a father-in-law to him! But that’s the way with mean and thankless naturs. Do ’em an injustice and they’re never satisfied till they’ve retaliated! _Enter MATILDA with letter, and pretending to cry._ _Mat._ Papa dear, I’ve bad news for you. _O’Fi._ Bad news? At whose suit? _Mat._ It ain’t that, dear; it’s my Tom. _O’Fi._ And what’s the scamp been doin’ now? _Mat._ The scamp’s bin dyin’. _O’Fi._ Dying? What d’ye mean? _Mat._ I mean Tom’s dead. _O’Fi._ (_looking at her sternly_). Matilda, are ye in earnest, or have ye bin at the eau de Cologne? _Mat._ Oh! I’m in earnest. Tom’s dead. _O’Fi._ Who’s killed him? _Mat._ Faith, an’ he killed himself. He’s written to say so. Here’s his letter. He encloses yer two bills and app’ints ye his executor. _O’Fi._ Ye pain and surproise me more than I can tell ye. Poor Tom! He was a koind and ginerous lad, and I’d hoped to have met these bills under happier circumstances. Well, his executor deals with them now--that’s me; and the question is whether, in the interests of Tom’s estate, it would be worth while to proceed against the acceptor--that’s me again; and, on the whole, I don’t recommend it. (_Tears them up._) Now, tell me all about it; don’t cry, my child. _Mat._ No, pa. Well, it’s loike this--Ben Isaacs was overpressin’, and poor Tom was bothered, and thought he’d make an end of himself; and just then he heard that the ould man, that Whipple called Tom Cobb from the loikeness, had just died. So Tom thought he’d make one death do for the two. Sure, he’s been economically brought up. _O’Fi._ What! Am I to onderstand that Thomas Cobb has been troiflin’ with the most sacred feelings of an old soldier’s grey-headed ould harr’t? _Mat._ Well, he’s shamming dead, if ye mean that, and he hopes you’ll go to the funeral! _O’Fi._ (_rises_). Shamming dead, is he! Shamming dead! Let me come across him, and by the blood of the O’Fipps, I’ll make him sham dead in rale earnest! _Mat._ But, papa dear, the boy’s hard pressed!