_Owen._ Because you won't be able to help it, when I say Mr. Gilbert.--See!

_Mabel._ Oh, dear Owen! that's not fair. (_She falls back a little._)

_Owen._ Well, mother, it's with you I'm reasoning. If he was your
son-in-law--

_Widow._ Hush! that he'll never be. Now, Owen, I'll grow angry if you put
nonsense in the girl's head.

_Owen._ But if it's in the man's head, it's not a bit nonsense.

_Mabel._ Owen, you might well say I shouldn't listen to you.

[_Exit MABEL._

_Widow._ There now, you've drove your sister off.

_Owen._ Well, Gilbert will bring her on again, may be.

_Widow._ May be--but that _may be_ of yours might lead us all wrong.

[_She lays her hand on OWEN'S arm, and speaks in a serious tone._

_Widow._ Now, dear, don't be saying one word more to her, lest it should
end in a disappointment.

_Owen._ Still it is my notion, 'tis Mabel he loves.