Nupkins--citizen--I remember you; you are an old acquaintance: I'll go
and call my husband.

_C. N_. Oh, no! no! don't! _please_ don't!--(_Aside_: There, there, I'm
done for--can I run away?--No use--perhaps I might soften her. I used to
be called eloquent--by the penny-a-liners. I've made a jury cry--I
think--let me try it. Gentlemen of the Jury, remember the sad change in
my client's position! remember.--Oh, I'm going mad, I think--she
remembers me) (_Kneels before her_) Oh, woman, woman, spare me! Let me
crawl into the copse and die quietly there!

_M. P_. Spare you, citizen? Well, I could have spared you once, well
enough, and so could many another poor devil have done. But as to dying
in the copse, no, I really can't let you do that. You must come home to
our house, and we'll see what can be done with you. It's our old house,
but really nice enough, now; all that pretty picture of plenty that I
told you about on that day when you were so hard upon me has come to
pass, and more.

_C. N_. Oh, no! I can't come!

_M. P_. Oh, yes; you can get as far as that, and we'll give you
something to eat and drink, and then you'll be stronger. It will really
please me, if you'll come; I'm like a child with a new toy, these days,
and want to show new-comers all that's going on. Come along, and I'll
show you the pretty new hall they are building for our parish; it's such
a pleasure to stand and watch the lads at work there, as merry as grigs.
Hark! you may hear their trowels clinking from here. And, Mr. Nupkins,
you mustn't think I stole those loaves; I really didn't.