The Parent's Assistant; Or, Stories for Children

Old M. Why, miss, I slept last night at the inn here, in town – the 'Saracen's Head' —

Lucy (interrupts him). Hark! there is my father coming downstairs; follow me. You may tell me your story as we go along.

Old M. I slept at the 'Saracen's Head,' miss, and —

    (Exit talking.)

SCENE II

Justice Headstrong's Study

(He appears in his nightgown and cap, with his gouty foot upon a stool – a table and chocolate beside him – Lucy is leaning on the arm of his chair.)

Just. Well, well, my darling, presently; I'll see him presently.

Lucy. Whilst you are drinking your chocolate, papa?

Just. No, no, no – I never see anybody till I have done my chocolate, darling. (He tastes his chocolate.) There's no sugar in this, child.

Lucy. Yes, indeed, papa.

Just. No, child – there's no sugar, I tell you; that's poz!

Lucy. Oh, but, papa, I assure you I put in two lumps myself.

Just. There's no sugar, I say; why will you contradict me, child, for ever? There's no sugar, I say.

    (Lucy leans over him playfully, and with his teaspoon pulls out two lumps of sugar.)

Lucy. What's this, papa?

Just. Pshaw! pshaw! pshaw! – it is not melted, child – it is the same as no sugar. – Oh, my foot, girl, my foot! – you kill me. Go, go, I'm busy. I've business to do. Go and send William to me; do you hear, love?

Lucy. And the old man, papa?

Just. What old man? I tell you what, I've been plagued ever since I was awake, and before I was awake, about that old man. If he can't wait, let him go about his business. Don't you know, child, I never see anybody till I've drunk my chocolate; and I never will, if it were a duke – that's poz! Why, it has but just struck twelve; if he can't wait, he can go about his business, can't he?

Lucy. Oh, sir, he can wait. It was not he who was impatient. (She comes back playfully.) It was only I, papa; don't be angry.

Just. Well, well, well (finishing his cup of chocolate, and pushing his dish away); and at any rate there was not sugar enough. Send William, send William, child; and I'll finish my own business, and then —

    (Exit Lucy, dancing, 'And then! – and then!')

Justice, alone

Just. Oh, this foot of mine! – (twinges) – Oh, this foot! Ay, if Dr. Sparerib could cure one of the gout, then, indeed, I should think something of him; but as to my leaving off my bottle of port, it's nonsense; it's all nonsense; I can't do it; I can't, and I won't for all the Dr. Spareribs in Christendom; that's poz!

Enter William

Just. William – oh! ay! hey! what answer, pray, did you bring from the 'Saracen's Head'? Did you see Mrs. Bustle herself, as I bid you?

Will. Yes, sir, I saw the landlady herself; she said she would come up immediately, sir.

Just. Ah, that's well – immediately?

Will. Yes, sir, and I hear her voice below now.

Just. Oh, show her up; show Mrs. Bustle in.

Enter Mrs. Bustle, the landlady of the 'Saracen's Head.'

Land. Good-morrow to your worship! I'm glad to see your worship look so purely. I came up with all speed (taking breath). Our pie is in the oven; that was what you sent for me about, I take it.

Just. True, true; sit down, good Mrs. Bustle, pray —

Land. Oh, your worship's always very good (settling her apron). I came up just as I was – only threw my shawl over me. I thought your worship would excuse – I'm quite, as it were, rejoiced to see your worship look so purely, and to find you up so hearty —

Just. Oh, I'm very hearty (coughing), always hearty, and thankful for it. I hope to see many Christmas doings yet, Mrs. Bustle. And so our pie is in the oven, I think you say?

Land. In the oven it is. I put it in with my own hands; and if we have but good luck in the baking, it will be as pretty a goose-pie – though I say it that should not say it – as pretty a goose-pie as ever your worship set your eyes upon.

Just. Will you take a glass of anything this morning, Mrs. Bustle? – I have some nice usquebaugh.

Land. Oh, no, your worship! – I thank your worship, though, as much as if I took it; but I just took my luncheon before I came up; or more proper, my sandwich, I should say, for the fashion's sake, to be sure. A luncheon won't go down with nobody nowadays (laughs). I expect hostler and boots will be calling for their sandwiches just now (laughs again). I'm sure I beg your worship's pardon for mentioning a luncheon.

Just. Oh, Mrs. Bustle, the word's a good word, for it means a good thing – ha! ha! ha! (pulls out his watch); but pray, is it luncheon time? Why, it's past one, I declare; and I thought I was up in remarkably good time, too.

Land. Well, and to be sure so it was, remarkably good time for your worship; but folks in our way must be up betimes, you know. I've been up and about these seven hours.

Just. (stretching). Seven hours!

Land. Ay, indeed – eight, I might say, for I am an early little body; though I say it that should not say it – I am an early little body.

Just. An early little body, as you say, Mrs. Bustle – so I shall have my goose-pie for dinner, hey?

Land. For dinner, as sure as the clock strikes four – but I mustn't stay prating, for it may be spoiling if I'm away; so I must wish your worship a good morning.

    (She curtsies.)

Just. No ceremony – no ceremony; good Mrs. Bustle, your servant.

Enter William, to take away the chocolate. The Landlady is putting on her shawl

Just. You may let that man know, William, that I have dispatched my own business, and am at leisure for his now (taking a pinch of snuff). Hum! pray, William (Justice leans back gravely), what sort of a looking fellow is he, pray?

Will. Most like a sort of travelling man, in my opinion, sir – or something that way, I take it.

    (At these words the Landlady turns round inquisitively, and delays, that she may listen, while she is putting on and pinning her shawl.)