ile the fruit withers and decays beneath--but zounds! don't
speak so loud, here's somebody coming, and they'll think we are
quarrelling. _(Helen sings behind)_ So here comes our madcap.

_Enter_ Helen.

_Helen._ Good morning, good morning. Here, papa, look what a beautiful
posy of wild flowers I have gathered. See, the dew is still upon them.
How lovely they are! To my fancy, now, these uncultivated productions of
nature have more charms than the whole garden can equal. Why can we not
all be like these flowers, simple and inartificial, with the stamp of
nature and truth upon us?

_Lady W._ Romantic stuff! But how comes it, Miss Helen, that my orders
are thus disobeyed?

_Helen._ Why lord, mamma, I'll tell you how it was; but first I must eat
my breakfast; so I'll sit down and tell you all about it. _(sits down.)_
In the first place, I rose at six, and remembering I was to copy out the
whole catalogue of sweetmeats, and as I hate all sweet things, (some
sugar, if you please, papa) I determined to take one run round the park
before I sat down to my morning's work: so taking a crust of bread and a
glass of cold water, which I love better than (some tea, if you please,
mamma) any thing in the world, out I flew like a lapwing; stopped at the
dairy; and (some cream, if you please, papa) down to the meadows and
gathered my nosegay; and then bounded home, with a heart full of gayety,
and a rare appetite for--some roll and butter, if you please, mamma.

_Lady W._ Daughter, this levity of character is unbecoming your sex, and
even your age. You see none of this offensive flightiness in me.

_Sir W._ Come, come, my dear lady Worret. Helen's gayety is natural.
Helen, my love, I have charming news for you. Every thing is at last
arranged between lord Austencourt and me respecting your marriage.

_Helen._ Why now, if mamma-in-law had said this, I should have thought
she meant to make me as grave as herself.

_Lady W._ In expectation that Helen will behave as becomes her in this
most important affair of her life, I consent to pass over her negligence
this morning in regard to my favourite receipts.

_Helen._ I hate all receipts, sweet, bitter, and sour.

_Lady W._ Then we will now talk of a husband.

_Helen._ I hate all husbands, sweet, bitter, and sour.

_Sir W._ Whoo! Helen, my love, you should not contradict your mamma.

_Helen._ My dear papa, I don't contradict her; but I will not marry lord
Austencourt.

_Lady