umbrella, and who should get the last kiss.

TOUCHIT.--What? didn't he kiss YOU? Oh, the hard-hearted old ogre!

MILLIKEN.--DON'T, Touchit! Don't laugh at Mr. Bonnington! he is as good
a fellow as ever breathed. Between you and me, as my half brothers and
sisters increased and multiplied year after year, I used to feel rather
lonely, rather bowled out, you understand. But I saw them so happy that
I longed to have a home of my own. When my mother proposed Arabella for
me (for she and Lady Kicklebury were immense friends at one time), I was
glad enough to give up clubs and bachelorhood, and to settle down as a
married man. My mother acted for the best. My poor wife's character,
my mother used to say, changed after marriage. I was not as happy as I
hoped to be; but I tried for it. George, I am not so comfortable now as
I might be. A house without a mistress, with two mothers-in-law reigning
over it--one worldly and aristocratic, another what you call serious,
though she don't mind a rubber of whist: I give you my honor my mother
plays a game at whist, and an uncommonly good game too--each woman
dragging over a child to her side: of course such a family cannot be
comfortable. [Bell rings.] There's the first dinner-bell. Go and dress,
for heaven's sake.

TOUCHIT.--Why dress? There is no company!

MILLIKEN.--Why? ah! her ladyship likes it, you see. And it costs nothing
to humor her. Quick, for she don't like to be kept waiting.

TOUCHIT.--Horace Milliken! what a pity it is the law declares a widower
shall not marry his wife's mother! She would marry you else,--she would,
on my word.