Girl. to Char. Here, Miss; here is a piece of your petticoat that you left on the bushes, as you scrambled over the hedge to look at the bird's nest
yonder.
Char. (in confusion.) O la! the briars will catch hold of one so, as one goes along. Give it me, give it me. (takes the muslin, and crams it hastily into her pocket.) This weather makes one go by the side of ditches, and amongst bushes, and any where for a little shade.
Balt. Tadpoles love ditches in all weathers.
(Exit.
Char. (looking after him strangely for a moment or two, and then skipping lightly up to Mrs. B. and taking her kindly by the hand.) Thank heaven he's gone! I stand more in awe of him, than my mother and my governess, and all the whole pack of masters that ever came about the house. If there was not a certain look about him now and then, that puts me in mind of my father, I should take a down-right aversion to him. O! I beg pardon! I mean I should not like him very well, even tho' he is your husband. But was it not provoking in that little chit to follow me with those rags in her hand?
Mrs. B. I suppose we shall have a glove or a garter coming after you bye-and-bye.
Char. O they may bring what they please now!—Well, How d'ye do? how d'ye do? how d'ye do? (taking Mrs. B. by the hand, and skipping round her joyfully.)
