SIR GEORGE LEETE. Give me a dinner a day for the rest of my life and I'll be content. CARNABY. Lately, one by one, opinions and desires have been failing me . . a flicker and then extinction. I shall shortly attain to being a most able critic upon life. SIR GEORGE LEETE. Shall I tell you again? You came into this world without a conscience. That explains you and it's all that does. That such a damnable coupling as this should be permitted by God Almighty . . or that the law shouldn't interfere! I've said my say. MR. SMALLPEICE _again comes out of the dining-room_. MR. SMALLPEICE. Mr. Leete. CARNABY. [_Ironically polite._] Mr. Smallpeice. MR. SMALLPEICE. Mr. Crowe is proposing your health. MR. CROWE _comes out_. _A crop-headed beefy-looking farmer of sixty._ MR. CROWE. Was. CARNABY. There's a good enemy! MR. CROWE. Get out of my road . . lawyer Smallpeice. CARNABY. Leave enough of him living to attend to my business. MR. SMALLPEICE. [_wriggling a bow at_ CARNABY.] Oh . . dear sir! SIR GEORGE LEETE. [_Disgustedly to_ MR. SMALLPEICE.] You! MR. SMALLPEICE. Employed in a small matter . . as yet. CARNABY. [_To_ CROWE.] I hope you spoke your mind of me. MR. CROWE. Not behind your back, sir. MRS. GEORGE LEETE _leads_ LADY LEETE _from the dining-room_. LADY LEETE _is a very old, blind and decrepit woman_. DOLLY _is a buxom young mother; whose attire borders on the gaudy_. CARNABY. [_With some tenderness._] Well . . Mother . . dear? MR. CROWE. [_Bumptiously to_ SIR GEORGE LEETE.] Did my speech offend you, my lord? SIR GEORGE LEETE. [_Sulkily._] I'm a baronet. LADY LEETE. Who's this here? CARNABY. Carnaby. DOLLY. Step down . . grandmother. LADY LEETE. Who did ye say you were? DOLLY. Mrs. George Leete. LADY LEETE. Take me to the fire-side. _So_ CARNABY _and_ DOLLY _lead her slowly to a chair by the fire where they carefully bestow her_. MR. SMALLPEICE. [_To_ FARMER CROWE.] He's leaving Markswayde, you know . . and me agent. LADY LEETE. [_Suddenly bethinking her._] Grace was not said. Fetch my chaplain . . at once. MR. SMALLPEICE. I will run. _He runs into the dining-room._ DOLLY. [_Calling after with her country accent._] Not parson Remnant . . t'other one. LADY LEETE. [_Demanding._] Snuff. CARNABY. [_To his father._] Sir . . my hand is a little unsteady. SIR GEORGE _and_ CARNABY _between them give_ LADY LEETE _her snuff_. MR. CROWE. Dolly . . ought those children to be left so long? DOLLY. All right, father . . I have a maid. LADY LEETE _sneezes_. SIR GEORGE LEETE. She'll do that once too often altogether. LADY LEETE. I'm cold. DOLLY. I'm cold . . I lack my shawl. CROWE. Call out to your man for it. DOLLY. [_Going to the dining-room door._] Will a gentleman please ask Mr. George Leete for my Cache-y-mire shawl? MR. CROWE. [_To_ CARNABY.] And I drank to the health of our grandson. CARNABY. Now suppose George were to assume your name, Mr. Crowe?