_Ton._ I know that, sir; but I’ve already made my choice.
_Crusty._ Oh! you have? Then why don’t you get married, have a little comfort, and not poke along in this way, with no company but a thick-headed Irishman and a ball of blacking?
_Mike._ Faith, it’s mighty complimentary is the ould gint, onyhow.
_Zeb._ Yes, well I guess! Ball of blacking,--blacking! What does the Declamation--
_Crusty._ Say, Tonsor, why don’t you get married?
_Crusty._ Oh, bother! why don’t you speak out?
_Mike._ Faith, Mr. Crusty, I’ll be afther telling uv yez: it’s mighty bashful is the masther. Ye say, sir, it’s all along uv the young lady’s father.
_Mike._ Ye say, sir, he’s wealthy and concaited, and manes the daughter shall niver marry anybody but a rich man.
_Crusty._ Not when such a likely young man as Tonsor offers? The mean old scamp!
_Mike._ That’s thrue for yez, sir. He won’t let her go wid a young man, or have a young man come uv courtin’ her.
_Mike._ And swears by all that’s blue that he’ll cut her off widout a shilling if she marries widout his consent.
_Crusty._ The miserly old vagabond! Look here, Tonsor, you must marry this girl directly.
_Crusty._ Marry her?--yes! Confound you! don’t you want to?
_Crusty._ Who cares for him? The mean old scamp! I’d like to play him a trick, and I will too. Here, you just take my chaise,--it’s at the door,--get the young lady, go down to Hobson, get a license, and then be off to Parson Sanborn, and get married at once.
_Ton._ But, Mr. Crusty, her father will not consent to this.
_Crusty._ Confound her father! Who cares for him or his consent? I give mine, and that is enough. I’m the richest man in the place; and, if anybody complains, let ’em sue me for damages. I won’t have such a confounded mean old cuss--
_Crusty._ Back you?--of course I will! Do you suppose I’ll stand by and see youth and honesty and worth given the go-by, by an old, mean--
_Ton._ Don’t, Mr. Crusty,--don’t call him names.
_Crusty._ Here, I’ll give you a note to Parson Sanborn, and another for old Hobson. They’ll help you along. I’ll tell the parson to tie the knot strong. (_Goes to table, R._) A mean, contemptible scamp!
_Zeb._ By golly, the old man’s crazy sure for sartain! See him eyes roll!