A Tender Attachment

Clap. Next above him is Mr. Oakum, a well-mannered mariner, engaged in the lumber trade.

Eben. Is that all?

Clap. No, sir; the floor above him, next the roof, is occupied by Mr. Loopstitch, a tailor, a native of France.

Eben. Soldier, sailor, tinker, and tailor! Here’s nice company for my boy.

Clap. O, they’re a nice, gentlemanly set, I assure you; very quiet. Mr. Picket is apt to be a little restless nights; walks in his sleep; and sometimes wanders about the house with a loaded musket. Mr. Oakum is of rather a musical turn, and has his “bark upon the sea” a little too often. Mr. Tinpan is very fond of rehearsing his war-cry, “Old kettles to mend;” and Mr. Loopstitch is making frantic efforts to master the trombone. But generally they are quiet, gentlemanly, respectable individuals.

Eben. I should say so. And my son abandons his luxurious home, his highly respectable connections, for such society as this?

Clap. Lord bless you, young gentlemen have their little freaks, you know.

Eben. And so have old gentlemen too. I have a very sudden one myself. For how long has my son engaged this room?

Clap. Let me see; he has paid me for it up to six o’clock to-night.

Eben. And after that I suppose it will be to let.

Clap. Of course. Though probably he’ll keep it himself.

Eben. Hark you, Mr. Claptrap.

Clap. Clapboard, sir.

Eben. Mr. Clapboard, I want to hire this room myself. What does my son pay you?

Clap. Six dollars a week. Cheap enough.

Eben. All right. I’ll engage it for a week myself, for which I will pay you twelve.

Clap. But, sir, he has the first choice.

Eben. No, he hasn’t; he’s not of age. I am his guardian, and I want it myself; so here’s your money. At six o’clock I shall come and take possession.

Clap. But, Mr. Crotchet —

Eben. No more words are necessary. You keep a house for the entertainment of gentlemen who wish a quiet place in the country. You certainly cannot refuse so handsome an offer as I have made you.

Clap. But your son —

Eben. Has comfortable quarters at home, where he belongs. You can inform him of my appearance here, and of the bargain I have made. Tell him to go home and amuse himself; that I shall positively take up my quarters here at six o’clock. (Aside.) There’s something wrong here; “a tender attachment,” I’ll be bound; and I’m determined to find it out. (Aloud.) Good day, Mr. Claptrap. [Exit, R.

Clap. Clapboard, sir – Now here’s a nice mess! What will Mr. Horace say to this, after he has got everything comfortably arranged for his purpose, to be flustered in this manner. It’s too bad!