_Land._ (_running on_). None of your flummery stuff will go down with his worship no more than with me, I give you warning; so you may go further and fare worse, and spare your breath to cool your porridge. _Just._ (_waves his hand with dignity_). Mrs. Bustle, good Mrs. Bustle, remember where you are. Silence! silence! Come forward, sir, and let me hear what you have to say. (_The Old Man comes forward_.) _Just._ Who and what may you be, friend, and what is your business with me? _Land._ Sir, if your worship will give me leave— (_Justice makes a sign to her to be silent_). _Old M._ Please, your worship, I am an old soldier. _Land._ (_interrupting_). An old hypocrite, say. _Just._ Mrs. Bustle, pray, I desire, let the man speak. _Old M._ For these two years past—ever since, please your worship—I wasn’t able to work any longer; for in my youth I did work as well as the best of them. _Land._ (_eager to interrupt_). You work—you— _Just._ Let him finish his story, I say. _Lucy_. Ay, do, do, papa, speak for him. Pray, Mrs. Bustle— _Land._ (_turning suddenly round to Lucy_). Miss, a good morrow to you, ma’am. I humbly beg your apologies for not seeing you sooner, Miss Lucy. (_Justice nods to the Old Man_, _who goes on_.) _Old Man_. But please your worship, it pleased God to take away the use of my left arm; and since that I have never been able to work. _Land._ Flummery! flummery! _Just._ (_angrily_). Mrs. Bustle, I have desired silence, and I will have it, that’s poz! You shall have your turn presently. _Old M._ For these two years past (for why should I be ashamed to tell the truth?) I have lived upon charity, and I scraped together a guinea and a half and upwards, and I was travelling with it to my grandson, in the north, with him to end my days—but (_sighing_)— _Just._ But what? Proceed, pray, to the point. _Old M._ But last night I slept here in town, please your worship, at the “Saracen’s Head.” _Land._ (_in a rage_). At the “Saracen’s Head”! Yes, forsooth! none such ever slept at the “Saracen’s Head” afore, or shall afterwards, as long as my name’s Bustle, and the “Saracen’s Head” is the “Saracen’s Head.” _Just._ Again! again! Mrs. Landlady, this is downright—I have said you should speak presently. He _shall_ speak first, since I’ve said it—that’s poz! Speak on, friend. You slept last night at the “Saracen’s Head.” _Old M._ Yes, please your worship, and I accuse nobody; but at night I had my little money safe, and in the morning it was gone.