_Tho._ Aw do, sir. _James_. The name is not an oncommon one. There's Mattie Kent? _Tho._ Nay; it's noan o' her. _James_. Then there's Mattie Winchfield? _Tho._ Nay; it's noan o' her. _James_. Then there's Mattie Pearson? _Tho._ Yigh, that's hoo! That's hoo! Wheer? Wheer? _James_. Well, it's too far for a man of your age to walk. But I'll call a cab, and we'll go comfortable. _Tho._ But aw connot affoord to peigh for a cab--as yo co it. _James_. You don't suppose I'm a goin' to put an honest man like you to expense! _Tho._ It's but raysonable I should peigh. But thae knows best. _James_. Hey! Cab there! _Exeunt_. _Re-enter_ BILL, _following them_. _Bill_. I'll have an eye of him, though. The swell as give me the yellow-boy--he's his master! Poor old codger! He'll believe any cove but the one as tells him the truth! _Exit_. _Enter from the house_ MRS. CLIFFORD. _Enter from opposite side_ COL. G. _Col. G._ I was just coming to see you, Clara. _Mrs. C._ And I was going to see you. How's Arthur to-day? I thought you would have come yesterday. _Col. G._ My poor boy is as dependent on me as if I were _not_ his father. I am very anxious about him. The fever keeps returning. _Mrs. C._ Fortune seems to have favoured your mad scheme, Walter. _Col. G._ Or something better than fortune. _Mrs. C._ You have had rare and ample opportunity. You may end the farce when you please, and in triumph. _Col. G._ On the contrary, Clara, it would be nothing but an anticlimax to end what you are pleased to call _the farce_ now. As if I could make a merit of nursing my own boy! I did more for my black servant. I wish I had him here. _Mrs. C._ You would like to double the watch--would you? _Col. G._ Something has vexed you, Clara. _Mrs. C._ I never liked the scheme, and I like it less every day. _Col. G._ I have had no chance yet. He has been ill all the time. I wish you would come and see him a little oftener. _Mrs. C._ He doesn't want me. You are everything now. Besides, I can't come alone. _Col G._ Why not? _Mrs. C._ Constance would fancy I did not want to take her. _Col. G._ Then why not take her? _Mrs. C._ I have my reasons. _Col. G._ What are they? _Mrs. C._ Never mind. _Col. G._ I insist upon knowing them. _Mrs. C._ It would break my heart, Walter, to quarrel with you, but I _will_ if you use such an expression. _Col. G._ But why shouldn't you bring Miss Lacordère with you? _Mrs. C._ He's but a boy, and it might put some nonsense in his head. _Col. G._ She's a fine girl. You make a friend of her. _Mrs. C._ She's a good girl, and a lady-like girl; but I don't want to meddle with the bulwarks of society. I hope to goodness they will last _my_ time. _Col. G._ Clara, I begin to doubt whether pride _be_ a Christian virtue. _Mrs. C._ I see! You'll be a radical before long. _Every_thing is going that way.