world. My name is George Kicklebury Milliken, of
Pigeoncot, Hants; the Grove, Richmond, Surrey; and Portland Place,
London, Esquire--my name is.

TOUCHIT.--You have forgotten Billiter Street, hemp and tallow merchant.

GEORGE.--Oh, bother! I don't care about that. I shall leave that when
I'm a man: when I'm a man and come into my property.

MILLIKEN.--You come into your property?

GEORGE.--I shall, you know, when you're dead, Papa. I shall have this
house, and Pigeoncot; and the house in town--no, I don't mind about the
house in town--and I shan't let Bella live with me--no, I won't.

BELLA.--No; I won't live with YOU. And I'LL have Pigeoncot.

GEORGE.--You shan't have Pigeoncot. I'll have it: and the ponies: and I
won't let you ride them--and the dogs, and you shan't have even a
puppy to play with and the dairy and won't I have as much cream as I
like--that's all!

TOUCHIT.--What a darling boy! Your children are brought up beautifully,
Milliken. It's quite delightful to see them together.

GEORGE.--And I shall sink the name of Milliken, I shall.

MILLIKEN.--Sink the name? why, George?

GEORGE.--Because the Millikens are nobodies--grandmamma says they are
nobodies. The Kickleburys are gentlemen, and came over with William the
Conqueror.

BELLA.--I know when that was. One thousand one hundred and one thousand
one hundred and onety-one!

GEORGE.--Bother when they came over! But I know this, when I come into
the property I shall sink the name of Milliken.

MILLIKEN.--So you are ashamed of your father's name, are you, George, my
boy?

GEORGE.--Ashamed! No, I ain't ashamed. Only Kicklebury is sweller. I
know it is. Grandmamma says so.

BELLA.--MY grandmamma does not say so. MY dear grandmamma says that
family pride is sinful, and all belongs to this wicked world; and that
in a very few years what our names are will not matter.

GEORGE.--Yes, she says so because her father kept a shop; and so did
Pa's father keep a sort of shop--only Pa's a gentleman now.

TOUCHIT.--Darling child! How I wish I were married! If I had such a dear
boy as you, George, do you know what I would give him?

GEORGE [quite pleased].--What would you give him, god-papa?

TOUCHIT.--I would give him as sound a flogging as ever boy had, my
darling. I would whip this nonsense out of him. I would send him to
school, where I would pray that he might be well thrashed: and if
when he came home he was still ashamed of his father, I would p