Mrs.B. You shall have no trouble at all. There is the place to begin at. Sit down, then, and make no more objections. (points out the place, and returns to her papers again.)
(Charles sits down with his book: reads a little with one arm dangling over the back of the chair; then changes his position, and reads a little while with the other arm over the back of the chair; then changes his position again, and, after rubbing his legs with his book hand, continues to read a little more; then he stops, and brushes some dust off his breeches with his elbow.)
Mrs. B. (observing him, and smiling.) How does the reading go on?
Char. Oh, pretty well; I shall finish the page presently. (he reads a little longer, still fidgeting about, and then starting up from his seat.) By the bye, that hound of a shoemaker has forgot to send home my new boots. I must go and see after them.
Mrs. B. What could possibly bring your boots into your mind at this time, I wonder?
Char. It is no wonder at all; for whenever I begin to read, and that is not often, I confess, all the little odd things that have slipp'd out of my head for a month, are sure to come into it then. I must see after the boots tho'.
Mrs.B. Not just now.
Char. This very moment. There is no time to be lost. I must have them to-morrow at all events.
