_Wat_. Let me see:--to-morrow night--on the steps of St. Martin's Church--ten o'clock. _Bill_. But if I don't find her? It may be a week--or a month--or-- _Wat_. Come whether you find her or not, and let me know. _Bill_. All serene, sir! There you are, sir! Brush your trousers, sir? _Wat_. No; leave 'em.--Don't forget now. _Bill_. Honour bright, sir! Not if I knows it, sir! _Wat_. There's that other skid, you know. _Bill_. All right, sir! Anything more, sir? _Wat_. Damn your impudence! Get along. _Exit_. BILL _watches him into_ MRS. CLIFFORD'S. _Bill_. Now by all the 'ungry gums of Arabiar, 'ere's a swell arter our Mattie!--A right rig'lar swell! I knows 'em--soverings an' red socks. What's come to our Mattie? 'Ere's Daddy Longlegs arter her, vith his penny and his blessin'! an' 'ere's this 'ere mighty swell vith his soverings--an' his red socks! An' she's 'ungry, poor gal!--This 'ere yellow-boy?--I 'ain't got no faith in swells--no more 'n in Daddy Longlegses--I 'ain't!--S'posin' he wants to marry her?--Not if I knows it. He ain't half good 'nough for _her_. Too many quids--goin' a flingin' on 'em about like buttons! He's been a crackin' o' cribs--_he_ has. I ain't a goin' to interduce our Mattie to no sich blokes as him. No fathers or lovyers for me--says I!--But this here pebble o' Paradise!--What's to be done wi' the cherub? I can't tell _her_ a lie about it, an' who'll break it up for a cove like me, lookin' jes' as if I'd been an' tarred myself and crep' through a rag-bag! They'd jug me. An' what 'ud Mattie say then? I wish I 'adn't 'a' touched it. I'm blowed if I don't toss it over a bridge!--Then the gent 'ain't got the weight on his dunop out o' me. O Lord! what _shall_ I do with it? I wish I'd skied it in his face! I don't believe it's a good un; I don't! (_Bites it_.) It do taste wery nasty. It's nothin' better 'n a gilt fardin'! Jes' what a cove might look for from sich a swell! (_Goes to a street lamp and examines it_.) Lor! there's a bobby! (_Exit. Re-enter to the lamp_.) I wish the gen'leman 'ad guv me a penny. I can't do nothin' wi' this 'ere quid. Vere am I to put it? I 'ain't got no pocket, an' if I was to stow it in my 'tato-trap, I couldn't wag my red rag--an' Mother Madge 'ud soon have me by the chops. Nor I've got noveres to plant it.--O Lor! it's all I've got, an' Madge lets nobody go to bed without the tuppence. It's all up with Bill--_for_ the night!--Where's the odds!--there's a first-class hotel by the river--The Adelphi Arches, they calls it--where they'll take me in fast enough, and I can go to sleep with it in my cheek. Coves is past talkin' to you there. Nobody as sees me in that 'ere 'aunt of luxury, 'ill take me for a millionaire vith a skid in his mouth. 'Tain't a bit cold to-night neither (_going_).--Vy do they say a _aunt_ of luxury? I s'pose acause she's wife to my uncle. _Exit_. _Slow music. The night passes. A policeman crosses twice_. THOMAS _crosses between. Dawn_.