Chapter 6

_Farmer_ ASHFIELD'S _Kitchen._

_Enter_ LADY HANDY _and_ SUSAN.

_Susan._ My dear home, thrice welcome!--What gratitude I feel to your ladyship for this indulgence!

_Lady H._ That's right, child!

_Susan._ And I am sure you partake my pleasure in again visiting a place, where you received every protection and kindness my parents could shew you, for, I remember, while you lived with my father--

_Lady H._ Child! don't put your memory to any fatigue on my account--you may transfer the remembrance of who I was, to aid your more perfect recollection of who I am.

_Susan._ Lady Handy!

_Lady H._ That's right, child!--I am not angry.

_Susan._ [_Looking out._] Ah! I see my dear father and mother coming through the garden.

_Lady H._ Oh! now I shall be caressed to death; but I must endure the shock of their attentions.

_Enter_ FARMER _and_ DAME, _with_ SIR ABEL.

_Ash._ My dear Susan! [_They run to_ SUSAN.

_Dame._ My sweet child! give me a kiss.

_Ash._ Hald thee! Feyther first though--Well, I be as mortal glad to zee thee as never war--and how be'st thee? and how do thee like Lunnun town? it be a deadly lively place I be tuold.

_Dame._ Is not she a sweet girl?

_Sir Abel._ That she is.

_Lady H._ [_With affected dignity._] Does it occur to any one present, that Lady Handy is in the room?

_Sir Abel._ Oh, Lud! I'm sure, my dear wife, I never forget, that you are in the room.

_Ash._ Drabbitit! I overlooked Lady Nelly, sure enow; but consider, there be zome difference between thee and our own Susan! I be deadly glad to zee thee, however.

_Dame._ So am I, Lady Handy.

_Ash._ Don't ye take it unkind I han't a buss'd thee yet--meant no slight indeed. [_Kisses her._

_Lady H._ Oh! shocking! [_Aside._

_Ash._ No harm I do hope, zur.

_Sir Abel._ None at all.

_Ash._ But dash it, Lady Nelly, what do make thee paint thy vace all over we rud ochre zoo? Be it vor thy spouse to knaw thee?--that be the way I do knaw my sheep.

_Sir Abel._ The flocks of fashion are all marked so, Farmer.

_Ash._ Likely! Drabbit it! thee do make a tightish kind of a ladyship zure enow.

_Dame._ That you do, my lady! you remember the old house?

_Ash._ Aye; and all about it, doant ye? Nelly! my lady!

_Lady H._ Oh! I'm quite shock'd--Susan, child! prepare a room where I may dress before I proceed to the castle. [_Exit_ SUSAN.

_Enter_ HANDY, _jun._

_Handy, jun._ I don't see Susan--I say, Dad, is that my mamma?

_Sir Abel._ Yes--speak to her.

_Handy, jun._ [_Chucking her under the chin_] A fine girl, upon my soul!

_Lady H._ Fine girl, indeed! Is this behaviour!

_Handy, jun._ Oh! beg pardon, most honoured parent. [_She curtsies._]---that's a damned bad curtsey, I can teach you to make a much better curtsey than that!

_Lady H._ You teach me, that am old enough to--hem!

_Handy, jun._ Oh! that toss of the head was very bad indeed--Look at me!--That's the thing!

_Lady H._ Am I to be insulted? Sir Abel, you know I seldom condescend to talk.

_Sir Abel._ Don't say so, my lady, you wrong yourself.

_Lady H._ But, when I do begin, you know not where it will end.

_Sir Abel._ Indeed I do not. [_Aside._

_Lady H._ I insist on receiving all possible respect from your son.

_Handy, jun._ And you shall have it, my dear girl!--Madam, I mean.

_Lady H._ I vow, I am agitated to that degree--Sir Abel! my fan.

_Sir Abel._ Yes, my dear--Bob, look here, a little contrivance of my own. While others carry swords and such like dreadful weapons in their canes, I more gallantly carry a fan. [_Removes the head of his cane, and draws out a fan._] A pretty thought, isn't it? [_Presents it to his lady._]

_Ash._ Some difference between thic stick and mine, beant there, zur? [_To_ HANDY, _jun._

_Handy, jun._ [_Moving away._] Yes, there is.--[_To Lady H._] Do you call that fanning yourself? [_Taking the fan._] My dear ma'am, this is the way to manoeuvre a fan.

_Lady H._ Sir, you shall find [_To_ HANDY, _jun._] I have power enough to make you repent this behaviour, severely repent it--Susan! [_Exit followed by_ DAME.

_Handy, jun._ Bravo! passion becomes her; she does that vastly well.

_Sir Abel._ Yes, practice makes perfect.

_Enter_ SUSAN.

_Susan._ Did your ladyship call?--Heavens! Mr. Handy!

_Handy, jun._ Hush! my angel! be composed! that letter will explain. [_Giving a letter, noticed by_ ASHFIELD.] Lady Handy wishes to see you.

_Susan._ Oh, Robert!

_Handy, jun._ At present, my love, no more. [_Exit_ Susan, _followed by_ ASHFIELD.

_Sir Abel._ What were you saying, sir, to that young woman?

_Handy, jun._ Nothing particular, sir. Where is Lady Handy going?

_Sir Abel._ To dress.

_Handy, jun._ I suppose she has found out the use of money.

_Sir Abel._ Yes; I'll do her the justice to say she encourages trade.--Why, do you know, Bob, my best coal pit won't find her in white muslins--round her neck hangs an hundred acres at least; my noblest oaks have made wigs for her; my fat oxen have dwindled into Dutch pugs, and white mice; my India bonds are transmuted into shawls and otto of roses; and a magnificent mansion has shrunk into a diamond snuff-box.

_Enter_ COUNTRYMAN.

_Coun._ Gentlemen, the folks be all got together, and the ploughs be ready--and----

_Sir Abel._ We are coming. [_Exit_ SERVANT.

_Handy, jun._ Ploughs?

_Sir Abel._ Yes, Bob, we are going to have a grand agricultural meeting.

_Handy, jun._ Indeed!

_Sir Abel._ If I could but find a man able to manage my new-invented _curricle_ plough, none of them would have a chance.

_Handy, jun._ My dear sir, if there be any thing on earth I can do, it is that.

_Sir Abel._ What!

_Handy._ I rather fancy I can plough better than any man in England.

_Sir Abel._ You don't say so! What a clever fellow he is! I say, Bob, if you would--

_Handy, jun._ No! I can't condescend.

_Sir Abel._ Condescend! why not?--much more creditable, let me tell you, than gallopping a maggot for a thousand, or eating a live cat, or any other fashionable achievement.

_Handy, jun._ So it is--Egad! I will--I'll carry off the prize of industry.

_Sir Abel._ But should you lose, Bob.

_Handy, jun._ I lose! that's vastly well!

_Sir Abel._ True, with my curricle plough you could hardly fail.

_Handy, jun._ With my superior skill, Dad--Then, I say, how the newspapers will teem with the account.

_Sir Abel._ Yes.

_Handy, jun._ That universal genius, Handy, junior, with a plough----

_Sir Abel._ Stop--invented by that ingenious machinist, Handy, senior.

_Handy, jun._ Gained the prize against the first husbandmen in Hampshire--Let our Bond-street butterflies emulate the example of Handy, junior.--

_Sir Abel._ And let old city grubs cultivate the field of science, like Handy, senior--Ecod! I am so happy!

_Lady H._ [_Without._] Sir Abel!

_Sir Abel._ Ah! there comes a damper.

_Handy, jun._ Courage! you have many resources of happiness.

_Sir Abel._ Have I? I should be very glad to know them.

_Handy, jun._ In the first place you possess an excellent temper.

_Sir Abel._ So much the worse; for if I had a bad one, I should be the better able to conquer hers.

_Handy, jun._ You enjoy good health--

_Sir Abel._ So much the worse; for if I were ill, she wouldn't come near me.

_Handy, jun._ Then you are rich--

_Sir Abel._ So much the worse; for had I been poor, she would not have married me. But I, say, Bob, if you gain the prize, I'll have a patent for my plough.

_Lady H._ [_Without._] Sir Abel! I say--

_Handy, jun._ Father, could not you get a patent for stopping that sort of noise?

_Sir Abel._ If I could, what a sale it would have!--No, Bob, a patent has been obtained for the only thing that will silence her--

_Handy, jun._ Aye--What's that?

_Sir Abel._ [_In a whisper._] A coffin! hush!--I'm coming, my dear.

_Handy, jun._ Ha, ha, ha! [_Exeunt._