MRS. PRIOR.--Thank you Charles [to the Page, who has been seen to let her in at the garden-gate], I am so much obliged to you! Good afternoon, Mr. Howell. Is my daughter--are the darling children well? Oh, I am quite tired and weary! Three horrid omnibuses were full, and I have had to walk the whole weary long way. Ah, times are changed with me, Mr. Howell. Once when I was young and strong, I had my husband's carriage to ride in. JOHN [aside].--His carriage! his coal-wagon! I know well enough who old Prior was. A merchant? yes, a pretty merchant! kep' a lodging-house, share in a barge, touting for orders, and at last a snug little place in the Gazette. MRS. PRIOR.--How is your cough, Mr. Howell? I have brought you some lozenges for it [takes numberless articles from her pocket], and if you would take them of a night and morning--oh, indeed, you would get better! The late Sir Henry Halford recommended them to Mr. Prior. He was his late Majesty's physician and ours. You know we have seen happier times, Mr. Howell. Oh, I am quite tired and faint. JOHN.--Will you take anything before the school-room tea, ma'am? You will stop to tea, I hope, with Miss Prior, and our young folks? MRS. PRIOR.--Thank you: a little glass of wine when one is so faint--a little crumb of biscuit when one is so old and tired! I have not been accustomed to want, you know; and in my poor dear Mr. Prior's time-- JOHN.--I'll fetch some wine, ma'am. [Exit to the dining-room.] MRS. PRIOR.--Bless the man, how abrupt he is in his manner! He quite shocks a poor lady who has been used to better days. What's here? Invitations--ho! Bills for Lady Kicklebury! THEY are not paid. Where is Mr. M. going to dine, I wonder? Captain and Mrs. Hopkinson, Sir John and Lady Tomkinson, request the pleasure. Request the pleasure! Of course they do. They are always asking Mr. M. to dinner. They have daughters to marry, and Mr. M. is a widower with three thousand a year, every shilling of it. I must tell Lady Kicklebury. He must never go to these places--never, never--mustn't be allowed. [While talking, she opens all the letters on the table, rummages the portfolio and writing-box, looks at cards on mantelpiece, work in work-basket, tries tea-box, and shows the greatest activity and curiosity.] Re-enter John, bearing a tray with cakes, a decanter, &c. Thank you, thank you, Mr. Howell! Oh, oh, dear me, not so much as that! Half a glass, and ONE biscuit, please. What elegant sherry! [sips a little, and puts down glass on tray]. Do you know, I remember in better days, Mr. Howell, when my poor dear husband-- JOHN.--Beg your pardon. There's Milliken's bell, going like mad. [Exit John.]