NDREW _to_ PATRICK (_going out_). Here's a pretty how-d'ye-do! He has
made his mother believe that black is white.

SCENE VII.

MRS. L. You see, my son, though I do not wish the servants to be
disrespectful to you, I require you to treat them with kindness. They
are human beings like you.

EDWARD (_contemptuously_). Like _me_! I should think not.

MR. S. Yes, sir! They are not rich, to be sure, or born of a high
family, nor is it likely that their heads will ever burst with the
knowledge a fine, thorough education gives; but they are capable of
every good and noble quality of the heart. Do you understand?

EDWARD. Yes, Mr. Sherwood.

MRS. L. Try to make everybody love you.

EDWARD. Dear mamma, I don't care for any love but yours.

MR. S. But you must care for the respect and friendship of others;
which, as Addison says, "improves happiness and abates misery, by
doubling our joys and dividing our griefs."

EDWARD (_sneeringly_). He talks like a book, don't he, mamma?

MRS. L. He does, indeed; and if you love me, you will profit by his
advice and lessons. Perhaps you owe more to him than to me. Love him,
and be grateful to him, for his constant endeavor to cultivate your
virtues and talents.

EDWARD. Love him--I cannot promise that.

MRS. L. Why not, my son?

EDWARD. Because I have given all my love to my dear mamma (_kissing
her_).

MRS. L. You darling! kiss me again! Ah, Mr. Sherwood! can you blame me
if I almost adore him?

[_Exit_ MRS. L.

SCENE VIII.

MR. SHERWOOD. You are ungrateful, to vex and grieve a mother who loves
you so dearly. If you loved her as much, you would obey her if she only
held up her little finger; but it seems to me a cat-o'nine-tails
flourished before you might have a very good effect.

EDWARD. I am sorry that--

MR. S. Did you take your writing lesson to-day?

EDWARD. No, sir. I don't like writing lessons. They are a perfect
plague. They give me the cramp in my thumb, and kinks in my fingers.

MR. S. Essence of switch on the fingers is good for taking out kinks.
Has your dancing master been here?

EDWARD. Oh yes! I love him dearly, he is so funny! He tells me comical
stories, and can imitate everybody in the house. Andrew's lumbering,
poking walk, Jane's prinking ways, and even you, with your long dismal
face, your eyes staring at a book like a cat looking at a fish, and your
solemn walk, oh, it would make you