_Ch._ Now, sir, perhaps you will be so good as to explain who the deuce you are, and what you want with this lady? _McG._ I don’t know who you may be, but I’m McGillicuddy. I am betrothed to this lady; we were to have been married this morning. I waited for her at the church from ten till four, then I began to get impatient. _Ch._ I really think you must be labouring under some delusion. _McG._ Delusion? Ha! ha! (_Two friends produce large wedding cake._) Here’s the cake! _Ch._ Still I think there’s a mistake somewhere. This lady is my wife. _McG._ What! Belinda! oh, Belinda! Tell me that this unattractive man lies; tell me that you are mine and only mine, now and for ever! _Miss T._ I cannot say that. This gentleman is my husband! [_MCGILLICUDDY falls sobbing on seat; BELVAWNEY tears his hair in despair; MAGGIE sobs on ANGUS’S shoulder._ ACT II. SCENE.--_Double Drawing-room in Symperson’s House. Indications that a wedding is about to take place. A plate of tarts and a bottle of wine on table._ _Enter MINNIE SYMPERSON, in wedding dress, followed by PARKER, her maid, holding her train._ _Min._ Take care, Parker--that’s right. There! How do I look? _Par._ Beautiful, miss; quite beautiful. _Min._ (_earnestly_). Oh, Parker, am I really beautiful? Really, _really_ beautiful, you know? _Par._ Oh, miss, there’s no question about it. Oh, I do so hope you and Mr. Cheviot Hill will be happy. _Min._ Oh, I’m sure we shall, Parker. He has often told me that I am the tree upon which the fruit of his heart is growing; and one couldn’t wish to be more than _that_. And he tells me that his greatest happiness is to see me happy. So it will be my duty--my _duty_, Parker--to devote my life, my whole life, to making myself as happy as I possibly can. _Enter SYMPERSON, dressed for wedding._ _Sym._ So, my little lamb is ready for the sacrifice. You can go, Parker. And I am to lose my pet at last; my little dickey-bird is to be married to-day! Well, well, it’s for her good. I must try and bear it--I must try and bear it. _Min._ And as my dear old papa comes into £1000 a year by it, I hope he won’t allow it to distress him too much. He must try and bear up. He mustn’t fret. _Sym._ My child, I will not deny that £1000 a year is a consolation. It’s quite a fortune. I hardly know what I shall do with it. _Min._ I think, dear papa, you will spend a good deal of it on brandy, and a good deal more on billiards, and a good deal more on betting. _Sym._ It may be so: I don’t say it won’t. We shall see, Minnie, we shall see. These simple pleasures would certainly tend to soothe your poor old father’s declining years. And my darling has not done badly either, has she? _Min._ No, dear papa; only fancy! Cheviot has £2000 a year from shares in the Royal Indestructible Bank.