Lady?

_Lady B._ (_undecidedly_). Not now--not yet; I have other work for
you. These Christmas gifts, to be distributed amongst my good friends
and neighbours (_handing parcels_). First, this bundle of cigars to
Sir VEVEY LONG, with my best wishes that such a connoisseur in tobacco
may find them sufficiently strong. The salve for Lady VIOLET POWDRAY,
with my love, and it should be rubbed on the last thing at night. The
plant you will take to the little PERGAMENTS--'twill serve them for a
Christmas tree. This packet to be diluted in a barrel of beer, which
you will see broached upon the village green; these sweetmeats for
distribution among the most deserving of the school-children.

_Elfie_ (_throwing her arms around_ Lady B.'s _neck_). I _do_ like
you, Grandma; you have such a kind face! And oh, what pains you must
have taken to find something that will do for everybody!

_Lady B._ (_disengaging herself peevishly_). Yes, yes, child. I trust
that what I have chosen will indeed do for everybody,--but I do not
like to be messed about. MONKSHOOD, you know what you have to do.

_Elfie._ Oh, I am sure he does, Grandma! See how benevolently he
smiles. You're such a good old man, you will take care that all the
poor people are fed, _won't_ you?

_Monks._ (_with a sinister smile_). Ah! Missie, I've 'elped to settle
a many people's 'ash in my time!

_Elfie_ (_innocently_). What, do they all get hash? How nice! I like
hash,--but what else do you give them?

_Monks._ (_grimly_). Gruel, Missie. (_Aside._) I must get out of this,
or this innocent child's prattle will unman me!

[_Exit with parcels._

_Elfie._ You seem so sad and troubled, Grandma. Let me sing you one of
the songs with which I drew a smile from poor dear Pa in happier days.

_Lady B._ No, no, some other time. (_Aside._) Pshaw! why should I
dread the effect of her simple melodies? Sing, child, if you will.

_Elfie._ How glad I am that I brought my banjo! [_Sings._
Dar is a lubly yaller gal that tickles me to deff;
She'll dance de room ob darkies down, and take away deir breff.
When she sits down to supper, ebery coloured gemple-man,
As she gets her upper lip o'er a plate o' "possum dip," cries,
"Woa, LUCINDY ANN!" (Chorus, dear Granny!)
Woa, LUCINDY! Woa, LUCINDY! Woa, LUCINDY ANN!
At de rate dat you are stuffin, you will nebber leave us nuffin; so woa,
Miss SINDY ANN!

_To Lady B._ (_who, after joining in chorus