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._)

_Just._ Hum! a sort of a travelling man. Hum! lay my books out open at the title Vagrant; and, William, tell the cook that Mrs. Bustle promises me the goose-pie for dinner. Four o'clock, do you hear? And show the old man in now.

(_The Landlady looks eagerly towards the door, as it opens, and exclaims,_)

_Land._ My old gentleman, as I hope to breathe!

_Enter the_ OLD MAN.

(_Lucy follows the Old Man on tiptoe--The Justice leans back and looks consequential--The Landlady sets her arms akimbo--The Old Man starts as he sees her._)

_Just._ What stops you, friend? Come forward, if you please.

_Land._ (_advancing_). So, sir, is it you, sir? Ay, you little thought, I warrant ye, to meet me here with his worship; but there you reckoned without your host--Out of the frying-pan into the fire.

_Just._ What is all this? What is this?

_Land._ (_running on_). None of your flummery stuff will go down with his worship no more than with me, I give you warning; so you may go further and far worse, and spare your breath to cool your porridge.

_Just._ (_waves his hand with dignity_). Mrs. Bustle, good Mrs. Bustle, remember where you are. Silence! silence! Come forward, sir, and let me hear what you have to say.

(_The Old Man comes forward._)

_Just._ Who and what may you be, friend, and what is your business with me?

_Land._ Sir, if your worship will give me leave----

(_Justice makes a sign to her to be silent._)

_Old M._ Please your worship, I am an old soldier.

_Land._ (_interrupting_). An old hypocrite, say.

_Just._ Mrs. Bustle, pray, I desire, let the man speak.

_Old M._ For these two years past--ever since, please your worship--I wasn't able to work any longer; for in my youth I did work as well as the best of them.

_Land._ (_eager to interrupt_). You work--you----

_Just._ Let him finish his story, I say.

_Lucy._ Ay, do, do, papa, speak for him. Pray, Mrs. Bustle----

_Land._ (_turning suddenly round to Lucy_). Miss, a good morrow to you, ma'am. I humbly beg your apologies for not seeing you sooner, Miss Lucy.

(_Justice nods to the Old Man, who goes on._)

_Old Man._ But, please your worship, it pleased God to take away the use of my left arm; and since that I have never been able to work.

_Land._ Flummery! flummery!

_Just._ (_angrily_). Mrs. Bustle, I have desired silence, and I will have it, that's poz! You shall have your turn presently.

_Old M._ For these two years past (for why should I be ashamed to tell the truth?) I have lived upon charity, and I scraped together a guinea and a half and upwards, and I was travelling with it to my grandson, in the north, with him to end my days--_but_ (_sighing_)----

_Just._ _But_ what? Proceed, pray, to the point.

_Old M._ But last night I slept here in town, please your worship, at the 'Saracen's Head.'

_Land._ (_in a rage_). At the 'Saracen's Head!' Yes, forsooth! none such ever slept at the 'Saracen's Head' afore, or ever shall afterwards, as long as my name's Bustle and the 'Saracen's Head' is the 'Saracen's Head.'

_Just._ Again! again! Mrs. Landlady, this is downright--I have said you should speak presently. He _shall_ speak first, since I've said it--that's poz! Speak on, friend. You slept last night at the 'Saracen's Head.'

_Old M._ Yes, please your worship, and I accuse nobody; but at night I had my little money safe, and in the morning it was gone.

_Land._ Gone!--gone, indeed, in my house! and this is the way I'm to be treated! Is it so? I couldn't but speak, your worship, to such an inhuman like, out o' the way, scandalous charge, if King George and all the Royal Family were sitting in your worship's chair, beside you, to silence me (_turning to the Old Man_). And this is your gratitude, forsooth! Didn't you tell me that any hole in my house was good enough for you, wheedling hypocrite? And the thanks I receive is to call me and mine a pack of thieves.

_Old M._ Oh, no, no, no, _No_--a pack of thieves, by no means.

_Land._ Ay, I thought when _I_ came to speak we should have you upon your marrow-bones in----

_Just._ (_imperiously_). Silence! Five times have I commanded silence, and five times in vain; and I won't command anything five times in vain--_that's poz_!

_Land._ (_in a pet, aside_). Old Poz! (_Aloud._) Then, your worship, I don't see any business I have to be waiting here; the folks want me at home (_returning and whispering_). Shall I send the goose-pie up, your worship, if it's ready?

_Just._ (_with magnanimity_). I care not for the goose-pie, Mrs. Bustle. Do not talk to me of goose-pies; this is no place to talk of pies.

_Land._ Oh, for that matter, your worship knows best, to be sure.

(_Exit Landlady, angry._)