_Tom._ I beg your pardon, Mrs.—Excuse me, miss: a slip of the tongue. But you look so much like my Aunt Matilda! But then, she's forty-five; and you can't be over thirty— _Patience._ Sir! _Tom._ Not quite, miss. I'm still very young, and not entitled to that address. But I couldn't think of infringing upon the rules; oh, no! I should have been pleased to spend half an hour in such agreeable society; but, as you object, I will go. _Girls_ (_in chorus_). Oh, no; don't go; stay! _Patience._ I insist upon his immediately quitting the room. I did not come here to flirt and frolic with young men, but to improve my mind, to store it— _Maria._ Oh, bosh, Patience! I've no patience with you. _Tom._ "Let Patience have her perfect work." _Maria_ (_aside_). She's a humbug, Tom. Our Job is in love with her, and she with him; and they are billing and cooing every chance they can get. _Tom_ (_aside_). Maria, you're a jewel. You have enlightened my understanding. You shall see some fun. (_Aloud._) Miss Patience, you are right: I was wrong to disturb your peaceful meditation. Forgive me. I will go, and in the quiet of my chamber contemplate—the basin of gruel which my fond aunt has left me for consolation.—Sorry, girls; but the rules must be obeyed. [_Exit_, R. _Maria._ Patience Plunkett, you're a hateful old thing! _Augusta._ Yes; just as mean as you can be. _Jane._ If you are so fond of seclusion, why don't you go to your own room? _Maria._ Yes; and study the Book of Job. _Bessie._ Hush, Maria! _Patience._ You know I am right; and I am not at all stu-stu-pefied by your ob-ob-jackulations. I am a few years older than you—only a few; and I have wisdom to guide— _Maria._ Oh, fiddlesticks! We have all the preaching we want, and don't believe in yours. _Tom_ (_outside_). Oh, oh! My hand! my hand! _Bessie._ Tom has hurt himself. _Tom_ (_outside_). Oh! gracious goodness, how it smarts! (_Enters_ R. _hurriedly, his left hand concealed in a large piece of white cloth. He should also have in his hand apiece of wood, under the cloth; a string in his right hand._) O girls! I've done it now! That hand I was so proud of, oh! so white and delicate, oh! _Bessie._ What is it, Tom? Have you cut it? _Lucy._ Burnt it? _All_ (_in chorus_). Oh! what is the matter? (_They gather about him._) _Tom._ Oh! don't come near me. The slightest touch is agony, agony, agony! I went up stairs—oh! to my basin of gruel—oh! Beside the gruel—oh! there was a knife—oh! I took it up—oh! and—and—and oh, oh, oh! _Jane._ I've got some Russia salve in my room. _Maria._ Let me run for it. _Tom._ No. I've spread on the salve an inch thick. Oh! it's all right. It will soon be well. If I only had some one to tie it up for me!