How dare I? Because me and him formed an attachment before ever you darkened our doors. [_Taking a folded printed paper from her pocket._]

You may put down the iron 'eel too heavy, Miss Tomlinson. I refer you to _Bow Bells_--"First Love is Best Love; or, The Earl's Choice."

[_As POPHAM offers the paper, CIS enters, looking very pale, worn-out, and dishevelled._

POPHAM AND BEATIE.

Oh!

CIS.

[_Staggering to a chair._] Where's the mater?

POPHAM.

Not home yet.

CIS.

Thank giminy!

BEATIE.

He's ill!

POPHAM.

Oh!

[_BEATIE, a.s.sisted by POPHAM, quickly wheels the large armchair forward, they catch hold of CIS and place him in it, he submits limply._

BEATIE.

[_Taking CIS'S hand._] What is the matter, Cis dear? Tell Beatie.

POPHAM.

[_Taking his other hand._] Well, I'm sure! Who's given you raisins and ketchup from the store cupboard? Come back to Emma!

[_CIS, with his eyes closed, gives a murmur._

BEATIE.

He's whispering!

[_They both bob their heads down to listen._

POPHAM.

He says his head's a-whirling.

BEATIE.

Put him on the sofa.

[_They take off his boots, loosen his necktie, and dab his forehead with water out of a flower-vase._

CIS.

I--I--I wish you two girls would leave off.

BEATIE.

He's speaking again. He hasn't had any breakfast! He's hungry!

POPHAM.

Hungry! I thought he looked thin! Wait a minute, dear! Emma Popham knows what her boy fancies!

[_She runs out of the room._

CIS.

Oh, Beatie, hold my head while I ask you something.

BEATIE.

Yes, darling!

CIS.

No lady would marry a gentleman who had been a convict, would she?

BEATIE.

No; certainly not!

CIS.

I thought not! Well, Beatie, I've been run after by a policeman.

BEATIE.

[_Leaving him._] Oh!

CIS.

Not caught, you know, only run after; and, walking home from Hendon this morning, I came to the conclusion that I ought to settle down in life. Beatie--could I write out a paper promising to marry you when I'm one-and-twenty?