like him. To tell you the truth, Mattie, he's not a gentleman. Mat. Not a gentleman, miss! How dare you say so? Con. Do you know anything about him? Did you ever see him? Mat. Yes. Con. Where ? Mat. Once at your house. Con. Oh! I remember that time! I begin to- It couldn't be at the sight of him you fainted, Mattie ?—You knew him? Tell me! tell me! Make me sure of it. Mat. To give you your revenge! No. It's a mean spite to say he ain't a gentleman. Con. Perhaps you and I have different ideas of what goes to make a gentleman. Mat. Very likely. Con. Oh! don't be vexed, Mattie. I didn't mean to hurt you. Mat. Oh! I dare say! Con. If you talk to me like that, I must go. Mat. I never asked you to come. Con. Well, I did want to be friendly with you. I wouldn't hurt you for the world. I beg your Mat. (bursting into tears) pardon, miss. I'm behaving like a brute. But you must forgive me; my heart is breaking. Con. Poor dear! (kissing her) So is mine almost. Let us be friends. Susan gone? Where's Mat. To fetch me a cup of tea. She'll be back directly. Con. Don't let her say bad words: I can't bear them. I think it's because I was so used to them once--in the streets, I mean-not at home-never at home. Mat. She don't often, miss. She's a goodhearted creature. It's only when hunger makes her cross. She don't like to be hungry. Con. I should think not, poor girl! Mat. Don't mind what she says, please. If you say nothing, she'll come all right. When she's spoken her mind, she feels better. Here she comes! Re-enter SUSAN. It begins to grow dark. Sus. Well, and who have we got here? Sus. There's no lack o' dare about her, to come here! Mat. It's very kind of her to come, Susan. Sus. I tell you what, miss: that parcel was stole. It was stole, miss!-stole from mean' that angel there a dyin' in the street! Con. I'm quite sure of it, Susan. I never thought anything else. Sus. Not but I allow it was a pity, miss!I'm very sorry. But, bless you! (lighting a candle)—with all your fine clothes! My! you look like a theayter-queen-you do, miss! If you was to send them up the spout now!My! what a lot they'd let you have on that silk! Con. The shawl is worth a good deal, I believe. It's an Indian one-all needlework. Sus. And the bee-utiful silk! Laws, miss! just shouldn't I like to wear a frock like that! I should be hard up before I pledged that! But the shawl! If I was you, miss, I would send 'most everything up before that!things inside, you know, miss-where it don't matter so much. Con. (laughing) The shawl would be the first thing I should part with. I would rather be nice inside than out. Sus. Lawk, miss! I shouldn't wonder if that was one of the differs now! Well, I never! It ain't seen! It must be one o' the differs! Con. What differs ? I don't understand you. Sus. The differs 'tween girls an' ladiesgirls like me an' real ladies like you. Con. Oh, I see! But how dark it has got! What can be keeping William ? I must go at once, or what will my aunt say! Would mind going with me a little bit, Susan ? Sus. I'll go with pleasure, miss. you Con. Just a little to the wide streets. old cloak, could you ? way, I mean, till we get You couldn't lend me an Sus. I 'ain't got one stitch, miss, but what I stand up in 'cep' it be a hodd glove an' 'alf a pocket-'an'kercher. Nobody 'ill know you. Con. But I oughtn't to be out dressed like this. Sus. You've only got to turn up your skirt over your head, miss. Con. (drawing up her skirt) I never thought of that! Sus. Well, I never! Con. What's the matter? Sus. Only the whiteness o' the linin' as took my breath away, miss. miss. It ain't no use turnin' of it up you'll look like a lady whatever you do to hide it. But never mind: |