a knife.

Jane (shouts). Have you a wife? A wife?

Whitwell. All my life? Yes.

Jane (shouts). I say, have you a wife?

Whitwell. A wife? No.

Jane. Drat him! he’s single, and marries Eglantine for sartain.

Coddle. He said no, I thought. (Shouts.) Are you a bachelor? (Shouts.) A bachelor? Bachelor? (Projects his ear.)

Whitwell. Yes.

Coddle (shouts). What do you say?

Whitwell (roars). Yes! By Jove, he’s deaf, and no mistake.

Coddle. He said yes, didn’t he? (Rises.) A bachelor! Glorious! (Roars.) Will you dine with us?

Whitwell. Lime-juice? with the shad? delicious!

Coddle. Dine with us?

Whitwell. With the greatest pleasure.

Coddle. Haven’t the leisure? Oh, yes, you have! We’ll dine early. I’ll take no refusal.—Jane, dinner at five.

Jane. Yes, sir. (Courtesies.) Yah, old crosspatch! with your providential son-in-laws, and your bachelors, and your dine-at-fives.

Coddle. No, thank you, Jane; not fish-balls. Curried lamb I prefer. Go, give the order at once.

Jane. Bah! with your fish-balls and your curries. Oh, if it wasn’t for that trumpery legacy! Yah! (Exit L., snarling.)

Coddle. Faithful Jane; invaluable friend! What should I do without her?

Whitwell (loudly). My dear sir, is it possible you suffer such insolence?

Coddle (shouts). You’re quite right. Yes, a perfect treasure, my young friend. A model, I assure you.

Whitwell (aside). Well, after that, deaf isn’t the word for it.

Coddle (rises, shuts doors and window, sets gun in corner, then sits near Whitwell. Shouts.) Now, my dear friend, let us have a little talk; a confidential talk, eh!

Whitwell. Confidential, in a bellow like that!

Coddle (shouts). I wish to be perfectly frank. I asked you to dinner, not that you might eat.

Whitwell (aside). What for, then, I’d like to know?

Coddle (shouts). Had you been a married man, I would have sent you to jail with pleasure; but you’re a bachelor. Now, I’m a father, with a dear daughter as happy as the day is long. Possibly in every respect you may not suit her.

Whitwell (picks up hat). Does the old dolt mean to insult me!

Coddle (shouting). But you suit me, my friend, to a T; and I offer you her hand, plump, no more words about it.

Whitwell. Sir; (Aside.) She’s humpbacked, I’ll stake my life, a dromedary!

Coddle (shouts). Between ourselves, sir,—in the strictest confidence, mind,—she will bring you a nest-egg of fifty thousand dollars.

Whitwell (aside). A double hump, then, beyond all doubt. Not a dromedary,—a camel! a backtrian! (Bows.) (Shouts.) Sir, I appreciate the honor, but I—(Going.)

Coddle. Not so fast; you can’t go to her yet. If you could have heard a word she said, you shouldn’t have my daughter. Do you catch my idea?

Whitwell (shouts). With great difficulty, like my hare.

Coddle (shouts). Perhaps you may not have noticed that I’m a trifle deaf.

Whitwell. Ha, ha! a trifle deaf! I should say so. (Shouts.) I think I did notice it.

Coddle. A little hard of hearing, so to speak.

Whitwell (shouts). You must be joking.

Coddle. Effect of smoking? Tut! I never smoke,—or hardly ever. You see, young man, I live here entirely alone with my daughter. She talks with nobody but me, and is as happy as a bird the livelong day.

Whitwell (aside). She must have a sweet old time of it.

Coddle. Now, suppose I were to take for a son-in-law one of the dozen who have already teased my life out for her,—a fellow with his ears entirely normal: of course they’d talk together in their natural voice, and force me to be incessantly calling out, “What’s that you’re saying?” “I can’t hear; say that again.” You understand? Ah! the young are so selfish. The thing’s preposterous, of course. Now, with a son-in-law like yourself,—deaf as a door-post,—this annoyance couldn’t happen. You’d shout at your wife, she’d shout back, of course, and I’d hear the whole conversation. Catch the idea?

Whitwell (shouts). Fear? Oh, no! I ain’t afraid. (Aside.) The old scoundrel looks out for number one, don’t he?

(Enter Jane, door in F., with visiting-card.)

Coddle (shouts). It’s a bargain, then? Shake hands on it, my boy. I get an audible son-in-law, you, a charming wife.

Whitwell (aside). Charming, eh? Ah! she with a double hump on her back, and he has the face to say she’s charming.

Jane. Oh, dear! we’re in for another deefy in the family. (Shouts.) A gentleman to see you, sir.

Coddle. Partridges? Yes, Jane, they’ll do nicely. (Shouts.) Now, my boy, before you see your future bride, you’ll want to fix up a little, eh? (Points to door, R.) Step in there, my dear friend, and arrange your dress.

Whitwell (shakes his head). (Shouts.) Distress? Not a bit. It delights me, sir. (Aside.) This scrape I’m in begins to look alarming.

Coddle. The dear boy! he is deaf, indeed. (Pushes him out.) Be off, lad, be off. Find all you want in there. (Motions to brush his hair, &c.) Brushes, combs, collars, and a razor. (Exit Whitwell, R.) I felt certain a merciful Providence would send me the right husband for Eglantine at last. Jane, you here yet? Set the table for four, remember. Every thing’s settled. He accepts. What have you there? a card?

Jane (shouts). Yes, sir. Oh, you old botheration!

Coddle. Good heavens!

Jane. Lawks! what now?

Coddle. The man himself.

Jane. What man? Land’s sake! he’ll be the death of me.

Coddle. In the library at this moment! Dear, faithful, affectionate Jane, wish me joy! The doctor has come at last! (Exit R. 1 E.)

(Eglantine enters R. as