bates!

[_Mr. CARVER takes a chair out of the way._

_Catty._ Walk in--walk on, Miss Honor. Oh, to be sure, Miss Honor will have
justice.

_Enter HONOR McBRIDE, walking very timidly._

And no need to be ashamed, Miss Honor, until you're found out.

_Mr. Carv._ Silence!

_Old McB._ Thank your honour.

[_Mr. CARVER whispers to his clerk, and directs him while the following
speeches go on._

_Catty._ That's a very pretty curtsy, Miss Honor--walk on, pray--all the
gentlemen's admiring you--my son Randal beyant all.

_Randal._ Mother, I won't bear--

_Catty._ Can't you find a sate for her, any of yees? Here's a stool--give
it her, Randal. (_HONOR sits down._) And I hope it won't prove the stool
of repentance, Miss or Madam. Oh, bounce your forehead, Randal--truth must
out; you've put it to the test, sir.

_Randal._ I desire no other for her or myself.