The Wolves and the Lamb | Page 6

mud at the skirts of her gownd! Enslaver! why did I ever come near
you? O enchantress Kelipso! how you have got hold of me! It was Fate,
Fate, Fate. When Mrs. Milliken fell ill of scarlet fever at Naples,
Milliken was away at Petersborough, Rooshia, looking after his
property. Her foring woman fled. Me and the governess remained and
nursed her and the children. We nursed the little ones out of the fever.
We buried their mother. We brought the children home over Halp and
Happenine. I nursed 'em all three. I tended 'em all three, the orphans,
and the lovely gu-gu-governess. At Rome, where she took ill, I waited
on her; as we went to Florence, had we been attacked by twenty
thousand brigands, this little arm had courage for them all! And if I
loved thee, Julia, was I wrong? and if I basked in thy beauty day and
night, Julia, am I not a man? and if, before this Peri, this enchantress,
this gazelle, I forgot poor little Mary Barlow, how could I help it? I say,
how the doose could I help it?
Enter Lady KICKLEBURY, BULKELEY following with parcels and a
spaniel.
LADY K.--Are the children and the governess come home?
JOHN.--Yes, my lady [in a perfectly altered tone].
LADY K.--Bulkeley, take those parcels to my sitting-room.
JOHN.--Get up, old stoopid. Push along, old daddylonglegs [aside to

BULKELEY].
LADY K.--Does any one dine here to-day, Howell?
JOHN.--Captain Touchit, my lady.
LADY K.--He's always dining here.
JOHN.--My master's oldest friend.
LADY K.--Don't tell me. He comes from his club. He smells of smoke;
he is a low, vulgar person. Send Pinhorn up to me when you go down
stairs. [Exit Lady K.]
JOHN.--I know. Send Pinhorn to me, means, Send my bonny brown
hair, and send my beautiful complexion, and send my figure--and, O
Lord! O Lord! what an old tigress that is! What an old Hector! How she
do twist Milliken round her thumb! He's born to be bullied by women:
and I remember him henpecked--let's see, ever since--ever since the
time of that little gloveress at Woodstock, whose picter poor Mrs. M.
made such a noise about when she found it in the lumber-room. Heh!
HER picture will be going into the lumber-room some day. M. must
marry to get rid of his mother-in-law and mother over him: no man can
stand it, not M. himself, who's a Job of a man. Isn't he, look at him! [As
he has been speaking, the bell has rung, the Page has run to the
garden-door, and MILLIKEN enters through the garden, laden with a
hamper, band-box, and cricket- bat.]
MILLIKEN.--Why was the carriage not sent for me, Howell? There
was no cab at the station, and I have had to toil all the way up the hill
with these confounded parcels of my lady's.
JOHN.--I suppose the shower took off all the cabs, sir. When DID a
man ever git a cab in a shower?--or a policeman at a pinch--or a friend
when you wanted him--or anything at the right time, sir?
MILLIKEN.--But, sir, why didn't the carriage come, I say?
JOHN.--YOU know.
MILLIKEN.--How do you mean I know? confound your impudence!
JOHN.--Lady Kicklebury took it--your mother-in-law took it--went out
a-visiting--Ham Common, Petersham, Twick'nam--doose knows where.
She, and her footman, and her span'l dog.
MILLIKEN.--Well, sir, suppose her ladyship DID take the carriage?
Hasn't she a perfect right? And if the carriage was gone, I want to know,
John, why the devil the pony-chaise wasn't sent with the groom? Am I
to bring a bonnet-box and a hamper of fish in my own hands, I should

like to know?
JOHN.--Heh! [laughs.]
MILLIKEN.--Why do you grin, you Cheshire cat?
JOHN.--Your mother-in-law had the carriage; and your mother sent for
the pony-chaise. Your Pa wanted to go and see the Wicar of Putney. Mr.
Bonnington don't like walking when he can ride.
MILLIKEN.--And why shouldn't Mr. Bonnington ride, sir, as long as
there's a carriage in my stable? Mr. Bonnington has had the gout, sir!
Mr. Bonnington is a clergyman, and married to my mother. He has
EVERY title to my respect.
JOHN.--And to your pony-chaise--yes, sir.
MILLIKEN.--And to everything he likes in this house, sir.
JOHN.--What a good fellow you are, sir! You'd give your head off your
shoulders, that you would. Is the fish for dinner to-day? Band-box for
my lady, I suppose, sir? [Looks in]--Turban, feathers, bugles,
marabouts, spangles--doose knows what. Yes, it's for her ladyship. [To
Page.] Charles, take this band-box to her ladyship's maid. [To his
master.] What sauce would you like with the turbot? Lobster sauce or
Hollandaise? Hollandaise is best-- most wholesome for you. Anybody
besides Captain Touchit coming to dinner?
MILLIKEN.--No one that I know of.
JOHN.--Very good. Bring up a