riend, like a groom; and she, like any lady of taste, took arms in
his defence.

ANTHONY. No, ma'am, that won't do. I know the sex. You mark my words,
the girl has some confounded nonsense in her head, and wants looking
after.

MISS FOSTER. In my presence, Anthony, I shall ask you to speak of
Dorothy with greater respect. With your permission, your sister and I
will continue to direct our own affairs. When we require the
interference of so young and confident a champion, you shall know.
(_Curtsies, kisses her hand and goes out, L._)

SCENE III

ANTHONY. Upon my word, I think Aunt Evelina one of the most uncivil old
women in the world. Nine weeks ago I came of age; and they still treat
me like a boy. I'm a recognised Corinthian, too: take my liquor with old
Fred, and go round with the Brummagem Bantam and Jack Bosb----.... O,
damn Jack Bosbury. If his father was a tailor, he shall fight me for his
ungentlemanly conduct. However, that's all one. What I want is to make
Aunt Evelina understand that I'm not the man to be put down by an old
maid who's been brought up in a work-basket, begad! I've had nothing but
rebuffs all day. It's very remarkable. There was that man Austin, to
begin with. I'll be hanged if I can stand him. I hear too much of him;
and if I can only get a good excuse to put him to the door, I believe
it would give Dorothy and all of us a kind of a position. After all,
he's not a man to visit in the house of ladies: not when I'm away, at
least. Nothing in it, of course; but is he a man whose visits I can
sanction?

SCENE IV

ANTHONY, BARBARA

BARBARA. Please, Mr. Anthony, Miss Foster said I was to show your room.

ANTHONY. Ah! Baby? Now, you come here. You're a girl of sense, I know.

BARBARA. La, Mr. Anthony, I hope I'm nothing of the kind.

ANTHONY. Come, come! that's not the tone I want: I'm serious. Does this
man Austin come much about the house?

BARBARA. O Mr. Anthony, for shame! Why don't you ask Miss Foster?

ANTHONY. Now I wish you to understand: I'm the head of this family. It's
my business to look after my sister's reputation, and my aunt's too,
begad! That's what I'm here for: I'm their natural protector. And what I
want you, Barbara Ridley, to understand--you whose fathers have served
my fathers--is just simply this: if you've any common gratitude, you're
bound to help me in the work. Now, Barbara, you know me, and you know my
Aunt Evelina. She's a good enough woman; I'm