_Lucy_. Oh, then, don’t send him away—don’t send him away. _Will._ But master has not had his chocolate, ma’am. He won’t ever see anybody before he drinks his chocolate, you know, ma’am. _Lucy_. But let the old man, then, come in here. Perhaps he can wait a little while. Call him. (_Exit Servant_.) (_Lucy sings_, _and goes on watering her myrtles_; _the servant shows in the Old Man_.) _Will._ You can’t see my master this hour; but miss will let you stay here. _Lucy_ (_aside_). Poor old man! how he trembles as he walks. (_Aloud_.) Sit down, sit down. My father will see you soon; pray sit down. (_He hesitates_; _she pushes a chair towards him_.) _Lucy_. Pray sit down. (_He sits down_.) _Old Man_. You are very good, miss; very good. (Lucy goes to her myrtles again.) _Lucy_. Ah! I’m afraid this poor myrtle is quite dead—quite dead. (_The Old Man sighs_, _and she turns round_.) _Lucy_ (_aside_). I wonder what can make him sigh so! (_Aloud_.) My father won’t make you wait long. _Old M._ Oh, ma’am, as long as he pleases. I’m in no haste—no haste. It’s only a small matter. _Lucy_. But does a small matter make you sigh so? _Old M._ Ah, miss; because, though it is a small matter in itself, it is not a small matter to me (_sighing again_); it was my all, and I’ve lost it. _Lucy_. What do you mean? What have you lost? _Old M._ Why, miss—but I won’t trouble you about it. _Lucy_. But it won’t trouble me at all—I mean, I wish to hear it; so tell it me. _Old M._ Why, miss, I slept last night at the inn here, in town—the “Saracen’s Head”— _Lucy_ (_interrupts him_). Hark! there is my father coming downstairs; follow me. You may tell me your story as we go along. _Old M._ I slept at the “Saracen’s Head,” miss, and— (_Exit_, _talking_.) SCENE II. _Justice Headstrong’s Study_. (_He appears in his nightgown and cap_, _with his gouty foot upon a stool_—_a table and chocolate beside him_—_Lucy is leaning on the arm of his chair_.) _Just._ Well, well, my darling, presently; I’ll see him presently. _Lucy_. Whilst you are drinking your chocolate, papa? _Just._ No, no, no—I never see anybody till I have done my chocolate, darling. (_He tastes his chocolate_.) There’s no sugar in this, child. _Lucy_. Yes, indeed, papa. _Just._ No, child—there’s _no_ sugar, I tell you; that poz! _Lucy_. Oh, but, papa, I assure you I put in two lumps myself. _Just._ There’s _no_ sugar, I say; why will you contradict me, child, for ever? There’s no sugar, I say. (_Lucy leans over him playfully_, _and with his teaspoon pulls out two lumps of sugar_.) _Lucy_. What’s this, papa?