'Tis Christmas-time--the season at which
sentimental fools exchange gifts and good wishes. For once I, too,
will distribute a few seasonable presents.... (_Inspecting parcels._)
Are my arrangements complete? The bundle of choice cigars, in each of
which a charge of nitro-glycerine has been dexterously inserted? The
lip-salve, made up from my own prescription with corrosive sublimate
by a venal chemist in the vicinity? The art flower-pot, containing a
fine specimen of the Upas plant, swathed in impermeable sacking? The
sweets compounded with sugar of lead? The packet of best ratsbane?
Yes, nothing has been omitted. Now to summon my faithful MONKSHOOD....
Ha! he is already at hand.

[_Chord as_ MONKSHOOD _enters_.

_Monkshood._ Your Ladyship, a child, whose sole luggage is a small
bandbox and a large banjo, is without, and requests the favour of a
personal interview.

_Lady B._ (_reproachfully_). And you, who have been with me all these
years, and know my ways, omitted to let loose the bloodhounds? You
grow careless, MONKSHOOD!

_Monks._ (_wounded_). Your Ladyship is unjust--I _did_ unloose the
bloodhounds; but the ferocious animals merely sat up and begged. The
child had took the precaution to provide herself with a bun!

_Lady B._ No matter, she must be removed--I care not how.

_Monks._ There may be room for one more--a little one--in the old
well. The child mentioned that she was your Ladyship's granddaughter,
but I presume that will make no difference?

_Lady B._ (_disquieted_). What!--then she must be the child of my only
son POLDOODLE, whom, for refusing to cut off the entail, I had falsely
accused of adulterating milk, and transported beyond the seas! She
comes hither to denounce and reproach me! MONKSHOOD, she must not
leave this place alive--you hear?

_Monks._ I require no second bidding--ha, the child ... she comes!

[_Chord._ _Little_ ELFIE _trips in with touching self-confidence._

_Elfie_ (_in a charming little Cockney accent_). Yes, Grandma, it's
me--little ELFIE, come all the way from Australia to see you, because
I thought you must be sow lownly all by yourself! My Papa often told
me what a long score he owed you, and how he hoped to pay you off if
he lived. But he went out to business one day--Pa was a bushranger,
you know, and worked--oh, _so_ hard; and never came back to his little
ELFIE, so poor little ELFIE has come to live with you!

_Monks._ Will you have the child removed now, my