ACT I.

_Library in Grimhaggard Hall. Nellie and Mr. Wriggle._

NELLIE. O my dear old Tutor, I shall be so sorry to lose you! I wish that my good Father had kept to his old plan, and instead of sending Bob to College had kept both you and him here. This house is so intolerably dull. When you are gone I shall sit looking at the old stones in the old wall, till I petrify into one myself. Why, the very spiders’ webs look as though there were no business doing in them, and not a _fly_ nor even a _broom_ would call at the door! Heigh-ho!

WRIG. You forget, honoured Madam, the governess, Miss Cob, who is expected here to-morrow.

NELL. A governess; the horror! then I hear that she is an oddity; so absent; very learned though, and extremely well-informed. I am rather old for a governess; I was seventeen last March. It would have been quite a different thing to have gone on with my studies here with you and Bob. Do you know that, without vanity, I consider that I have made amazing progress during the month that you have been here?

WRIG. In Geography, Madam, for instance. Let me have the honour of recalling to your oblivious memory that only yesterday you forgot the situation of Guinea.

NELL. Nonsense! I said that it was on the _Gold_ Coast, and wished I had it in my own pocket.

WRIG. I have remarked with regret, if you will permit me to say it, an aversion to consulting the Atlas, which----

NELL. Keep me from you and your atlas! Atlas carried the world, and you would burden me with the Atlas. I hardly consider myself competent yet to carry the whole globe on my poor little shoulders. I should like to know what is the use of knowing the situation of this place and that place, to one who never has the satisfaction of seeing any place at all beyond the walls of our stupid garden. I wish that the cross old gentleman who bequeathed my father Grimhaggard Hall, had lived to repent it, that I do! I would rather live in the narrowest lane in the City than be cooped up here like a toad in a block. I’ve no fancy to be a Penelope,--stitch, stitch, stitch!

WRIG. Penelope was a distinguished ornament to her sex.

NELL. O dear Tutor, I know that she was a duck of a queen, but distinguished for nothing but her _web-feat_.

WRIG. The resource of literature remains to you, Madam, which was never open to her. I would again venture to draw your attention to the subject of Geography.

NELL. O no more of that, I beg, my dear Mr. Wriggle. I know that _Ham_ and _Sandwich_ are in the kitchen, _China_ in the cupboard, and _Madeira_ in the cellar. That is enough for me. I regard Geography simply in reference to utility. I’m quite a utilitarian by principle. You know that the greatest navigator was a _Cook_; I dare say that he discovered _Chili_, _Cayenne_, and _Curaçoa_. Now do you know, my wise old Tutor, in spite of your white hair and all your learning, I think that I could puzzle you.

WRIG. It would be difficult, Madam, to place a limit to your powers.

NELL. Tell me, why is Botany Bay called Botany Bay?

WRIG. I am not, I must own, aware from what the name is derived. Probably the Botanist has there discovered some new and curious specimens of plants.

NELL. O you must have come from _Dunse_ or the _Scilly_ Isles. Botany Bay is called Botany Bay, because blossoms of the _birch_ and sprigs of the _gallows-tree_ are transplanted there _without their leaves_.

WRIG. I see! I see! Ha, ha!

NELL. I wonder if Miss Cob will understand a joke,--if she will ever perpetrate a pun. Do you know I fancy her such a prim old quiz? I should like to know whether she will play at chess with Papa, or teach me the guitar, as you do. Do you think that she will endure this house?

WRIG. The total want of all society, except that which the walls of Grimhaggard Hall have the honour constantly to enclose, may perhaps have an effect upon the lady’s spirits not altogether exhilarating; but when your brother returns from College, perhaps he may be accompanied by some of his fellow-students.

NELL. Students; what an idea! When my Father would sooner see a Goblin than a young man under any circumstances!

WRIG. Is not this rather a peculiar--rather a singular--I would say prejudice? Could such a word be applicable to the excellent Mr. Cramp?

NELL. I should say very singular indeed, did I not know its cause.

WRIG. Is it presumptuous to inquire what that cause may be?

NELL. O I’ll tell you in a moment. It all arises out of the freaks and folly of Mr. Grim of Grimhaggard Hall, who had, I am sorry to say, the kindness to leave us this property, and thereby consigned me to the dolefuls for the rest of my life.

WRIG. Was the estate bequeathed under any unpleasant conditions? I never heard your respected father complain of such.

NELL. O it is all _right_ to my father because it was all _left_ to him. But you shall hear. This Mr. Grim had a promising nephew, ... and this nephew, Mr. Atherton by name, was very naturally considered as Mr. Grim’s heir, the old gentleman never having persuaded any lady to marry him, and reign like another Proserpine over the gloomy shades of Grimhaggard Hall.

WRIG. How then came the estate to your Father?

NELL. Have a little patience, my dear Mr. Wriggle, and you shall be as learned as myself upon the subject. Well, this old uncle quarrelled with this young nephew. I think that it was about politics or some such absurdity; the elder was a Tory and the junior a Radical; no, the young one was the Tory, and the old one the Radical; and this _radical_ question was the _root_ of the quarrel. Now what do you think the spiteful old gentleman did?

WRIG. Disinherited his nephew, and left the property to Mr. Cramp.

NELL. That would have been a pretty severe lesson to the young man; but what do you say to the affectionate uncle leaving such a clause as this in his will? That my father must only have and hold this said Grimhaggard Hall, on condition of poor Mr. Atherton’s never even crossing the threshold of what he once considered his home! The place must be perfectly _heir_-tight. If he ever passes twelve hours under this roof, the whole estate is to revert to him.

WRIG. Such a clause argues little charity; but perhaps it may ultimately prove for the benefit of him whom it was designed to injure.

NELL. Ah, you think that Mr. Atherton may still manage to get his property out of his old uncle’s _clause_! I am sure I wish that Mr. Grim had left the dull place to him, or any one but us; but then my Father is not of my mind. Yet even he has not an atom of enjoyment of his prize, from the perpetual fear of losing it. He has heard that young Atherton is very sharp and clever; of course he will try to regain his rights by any means that may present themselves; so I really believe that Papa expects him to appear some day or other through the key-hole. The gate is kept constantly locked,--luckily, one can see the high-road from the house,--nothing in the shape of a Man is permitted to pass it; we have even parted with all men-servants, lest Mr. Atherton should manage to get in disguised as a lackey. Grimhaggard Hall is a regular Convent. A travelling pedlar is regarded with suspicion; the butcher-boy must hand the leg of mutton over the gate; the young apothecary is an object of terror,--I could not have a tooth pulled out, were I to die for it. Dear me, how it is raining! The weather seems endeavouring to find out whether it be possible to make Grimhaggard Hall look a little duller than usual.

WRIG. I hope Miss Cob may be fortunate in having finer weather for her journey to-morrow.

NELL. She is on the road to-day, like John Gilpin’s hat and wig. She was to leave Puddingham this morning, and rest to-night at the Jolly Bridecake at Mouseton. I hope the coach is provided with oar and rudders, for she will certainly have to swim for it!...

In the midst of this talk an artist’s gig is smashed outside the front gate; and the artist, Mr. Scull, being much shaken, is actually admitted within the walls of the old Hall, to the great disquiet of Mr. Cramp, who is determined that, come what may, the young man shall not remain through the night. It is a pelting day, and no other conveyance seems likely to pass; while the artist is plainly unable to walk the distance which separates Grimhaggard Hall from the next town. While this matter is still under discussion, a ring at the front-door bell is heard, and ‘a woman of very singular appearance’ is seen ‘standing in the rain, without an umbrella, as if water were her native element.’

NELL. Who can it be? [_Runs to the window._] Why, how tall she is! she looks as though she had grown a foot since that dress was made for her. What an extraordinary figure! Why, Sarah is actually letting her in. Papa, we have not had so many visitors since we came here. Grimhaggard Hall is growing quite gay.

CRAMP. I will go and meet this strange guest. [_Exit._]

NELL. It cannot be--it cannot be Miss Cob! Such a governess would kill me either with terror or with laughter.

WRIG. You were in expectation, Madam, of some one remarkable for eccentricity. We must not always judge of the qualities of the mind by the singularity of the exterior.

_Enter MR. CRAMP and MISS COB._

CRAMP. Miss Cob,--my daughter. [_NELLY makes a curtsey, MISS COB a bow._]

NELL. [_Aside to WRIGGLE._] I shall never keep my countenance.

WRIG. [_Aside._] That is to be regretted, for it is a very fair one.

CRAMP. We did not expect you to-night, Ma’am. Did you not purpose sleeping at Mouseton?

MISS C. The inn was chock-full.

CRAMP. But how came you to be on foot? You never have walked all the way! Where is your conveyance? It would be of the utmost service to me.

MISS C. Smashed on the road.

CRAMP. Well, if all the gigs and cabs in England are not in coalition against me this day! And where is your luggage?

MISS C. Coming. You did not expect me to carry it on my back, like a snail, did ye?

WRIG. Miss Cob, like an experienced general, leaves her baggage in the rear.

NELL. I should rather have expected to find it in the _van_. You are very wet, Ma’am; shall I help you off with your cloak?

MISS C. O never mind. I’m neither sugar nor salt; only it’s a plaguy thing to have one’s dress so long, walking through such a bog.

NELL. [_Aside._] How _long_ she may have had her dress, I know not; but in one sense I am sure it is short enough.

MISS C. This seems a good big house, but rather too much like a prison. Have you those bars on all the windows?

CRAMP. On all.

MISS C. And how many men-servants do you keep?

CRAMP. None at all. [_Aside._] What impertinent curiosity!

NELL. [_Aside._] Shall I venture to address her again? I can scarcely command myself. [_Aloud._] Pray, Ma’am, are you fond of music?

MISS C. I’m a regular dab at it.

NELL. What instrument do you play?

MISS C. All sorts of instruments, from the drum to the Jew’s harp.

NELL. You don’t play the cornopion?

MISS C. Like bricks,--and sing all the time. You shall hear me to-morrow. [_All stare in mute amazement._]

CRAMP. May I trouble you, Ma’am, to let me see your letter of introduction from Lady Myres again?

MISS C. Heartily welcome. You will read all about me there. Full details of manners and accomplishments. She says I’m a little absent sometimes; so if ever I make a few trifling blunders, I hope you’ll set them down to that score.

NELL. [_Aside to WRIGGLES._] I wish she were absent now, for I think I shall die in convulsions.

MISS C. I’ll teach you all sorts of things suitable for a lady. Knitting, netting,--crow--crowfoot ...

WRIG. I see that nothing is beyond your apprehension.

MISS C. What do you say about _apprehension_? Are you a police officer?

WRIG. No, Madam, I am a humble Professor of Geography, Geology, Algebra, and ...

MISS C. O I’m a match for you in all that, and I know Latin, Greek, and American besides.

WRIG. And what tongue, Madam, do you prefer?

MISS C. O I’m not particular about those sort of things; but if you want my opinion, why I think pickled tongues are excellent.

WRIG. [_Turning away laughing._] This is either too bad or too good! [_Aloud._] And your other studies, Ma’am?

MISS C. As for Arithmetics, they’re at my fingers’-ends.

NELL. I have not yet got beyond the Rule of Three.

MISS C. You shall know the Rule of Four-and-twenty, before I have done with you. We’ll skip the 4, 5, and 6.

NELL. And the Rule of Three inverse?

MISS C. In verse? Yes, you shall have it in all sorts of verse, merry, tragical, and comical.

NELL. [_Aside._] I shall expire with laughter. [_Retires to the window._]

WRIG. [_Aside._] I really cannot stand this any longer. [_Follows her._]

SCULL (the artist). Pray, Madam, may I venture to ask if you paint?

MISS C. You are a very impudent fellow, to ask a gentle--woman if she paints. Do I look as if I painted?

SCULL. I beg a million pardons, Ma’am, but as I paint myself ...

MISS C. You paint precious badly then, for you’re as yellow as a cowslip!

CRAMP. [_Aside._] Is the woman intoxicated or insane?

SCULL. I think--I imagine that there is a little misapprehension, Ma’am, on your part. My vocation is that of an artist.

NELL. O Miss Cob, you must see his sketches.

SCULL. You see, Ma’am, there is a new work to come out at Christmas, which is to be entitled,--_The Mouse on the Mantelpiece_. The letterpress is in very able hands,--a very pretty little fairy-tale for grown-up children,--that’s all the rage now, you know, in this enlightened age. But the illustrations will be the great thing. A steel-plate frontispiece, of course, in which will be introduced a number of winged mice in a variety of positions,--a very clever thing, I can assure you; and then wood-cuts,--I have the honour of being intrusted with the designs for them. We are to have a different illustration for the top of every column.

NELL. That will no doubt be _capital_.

SCULL. It will form a very elegant little volume altogether,--the most remarkable publication of the day.

MISS C. Well, after my wet walk, I think I’d be the better for something to warm me.

NELL. You shall have some tea directly, Ma’am.

MISS C. Tea! Wishy-washy stuff!

NELL. Would you prefer gruel?

MISS C. Gruel! I wish you joy of your fare!

NELL. [_Aside._] The fair Arithmetician looks as though she would not have 3 _Scruples to a Dram_!

CRAMP. I dare say Miss Cob is fatigued after her long walk. Nelly, show her the apartment. I hope everything is comfortable there.

NELL. Certainly, Papa. [_Aside to WRIGGLE._] At any rate, I will venture to say that her room is better than her company. [_Exeunt NELLY and MISS COB._]

And so on,--the wind-up of the story being that Miss Cob is found to be a burglar in woman’s disguise; while the artist is a harmless nobody. But elderly Wriggles, the tutor, who has lived quietly in the house for a month past, and of whom even Mr. Cramp has had no suspicions, turns out to be the much dreaded nephew, and to him by right Grimhaggard Hall now appertains. As, however, he has managed to fall deeply in love with the punning heroine, all difficulties are solved by their marriage,--Nellie being equally in love with him. Thus the nephew gains the old home, and the uncle does not lose it.