!" replied his lordship, quite ironically, as he
straightened up proudly for a wit-encounter. "What would become of the
mummers, if the lords did not fill their empty pockets?" he said,
crushingly.

"What would become of the lords, if the players' brains did not try to
fill their empty skulls with wits?" quickly retorted Nell.

"If you were a man, sweet Nelly, I should answer: 'The lords first had
fools at court; then supplanted them with players!'"

"And, being a woman, I do answer," replied the irrepressible Nell,
"'--and played the fools themselves, my lord!'"

The players tried to smother their feelings; but the retort was too apt,
and the greenroom rang with laughter.

Buckingham turned fiercely upon them; but their faces were instantly
mummified.

"Gad, I would sooner face the Dutch fleet, Nelly. Up go my hands, fair
robber," he said. He had decided to succumb for the present. In his
finger-tips glistened a golden guinea.

Nell eyed the coin dubiously.

"Nay, keep this and your wares too," added his lordship, in hope of
peace, as he placed it in her hand.

"Do you think me a beggar?" replied Nell, indignantly. "Take your
possessions, every one--every orange." She filled his hands and arms to
overflowing with her golden wares.

His lordship winced, but stood subdued.

"What am I to do with them?" he asked, falteringly.

"Eat them; eat them," promptly and forcefully retorted the quondam
orange-vender.

"All?" asked his lordship.

"All!" replied her ladyship.

"Damme, I cannot hold a dozen," he exclaimed, aghast.

"A chair! A chair!" cried Nell. "Would your lordship stand at the feast
of gold?"

Before Buckingham had time to reflect upon the outrage to his dignity,
Nell forced him into a chair, to the great glee of the by-standers,
especially of Manager Hart, who chuckled to an actor by his side:
"She'll pluck his fine feathers; curse his arrogance."

"Your knees together, my lord! What, have they never united in prayer?"
gleefully laughed Nell as she further humbled his lordship by forcing
his knees together to form a lap upon which to pile more oranges.

Buckingham did not relish the scene; but he was clever enough to humour
the vixen, both from fear of her tongue and from hope of favours as well
as words from her rosy lips.

"They'll unite to hold _thee_, wench," he suggested, with a sickly
laugh, as he observed his knees well laden with oranges. "I trow not,"
retorted Nell; "they can sc