LADY K.--My Clarence! He will be here immediately, I hope, the dear boy. You know my Clarence? TOUCHIT.--Yes, ma'am. LADY K.--And like him, I'm sure, Captain Touchit! Everybody does like Clarence Kicklebury. TOUCHIT.--The confounded young scamp! I say, Horace, do you like your brother-in-law? MILLIKEN.--Well--I--I can't say--I--like him--in fact, I don't. But that's no reason why his mother shouldn't. [During this, HOWELL, preceded by BULKELEY, hands round coffee. The garden without has darkened, as if evening. BULKELEY is going away without offering coffee to Miss PRIOR. JOHN stamps on his foot, and points to her. Captain TOUCHIT, laughing, goes up and talks to her now the servants are gone.] MRS. B.--Horace! I must tell you that the waste at your table is shocking. What is the need of opening all this wine? You and Lady Kicklebury were the only persons who took champagne. TOUCHIT.--I never drink it--never touch the rubbish! Too old a stager! LADY K.--Port, I think, is your favorite, Mrs. Bonnington? MRS. B.--My dear lady, I do not mean that you should not have champagne, if you like. Pray, pray, don't be angry! But why on earth, for you, who take so little, and Horace, who only drinks it to keep you company, should not Howell open a pint instead of a great large bottle? LADY K.--Oh, Howell! Howell! We must not mention Howell, my dear Mrs. Bonnington. Howell is faultless! Howell has the keys of everything! Howell is not to be controlled in anything! Howell is to be at liberty to be rude to my servant! MILLIKEN.--Is that all? I am sure I should have thought your man was big enough to resent any rudeness from poor little Howell. LADY K.--Horace! Excuse me for saying that you don't know--the--the class of servant to whom Bulkeley belongs. I had him, as a great favor, from Lord Toddleby. That class of servant is accustomed generally not to go out single. MILLIKEN.--Unless they are two behind a carriage-perch they pine away, as one love-bird does without his mate! LADY K.--No doubt! no doubt! I only say you are not accustomed here--in this kind of establishment, you understand--to that class of-- MRS. B.--Lady Kicklebury! is my son's establishment not good enough for any powdered monster in England? Is the house of a British merchant--? LADY K.--My dear creature! my dear creature! it IS the house of a British merchant, and a very comfortable house. MRS. B.--Yes, as you find it. LADY K.--Yes, as I find it, when I come to take care of my departed, angel's children, Mrs. Bonnington--[pointing to picture]--of THAT dear seraph's orphans, Mrs. Bonnington. YOU cannot. You have other duties--other children--a husband at home in delicate health, who-- MRS. B.--Lady Kicklebury, no one shall say I don't take care of my dear husband! MILLIKEN.--My dear mother! My dear Lady Kicklebury! [To T., who has come forward.] They spar so every night they meet, Touchit. Ain't it hard?