Coddle (claps hands to his ears). Come here, my pet. Give me a kiss, my darling. Wish your father joy. I have a surprise for you, sweet one.

Eglantine (shouts). I know what it is, papa. (Sadly.)

Coddle. Don’t scream so, Eglantine. It’s impossible you should know it.

Eglantine. Know what, papa?

Coddle. That I’m cured of my deafness. I can hear!

Eglantine. What! Is it possible?

Coddle. Yes, cured miraculously by that wonderful aurist, with his electro-magnetico—no, no; electro-galvanico—no, no; pshaw! no matter. He’s cured me in a flash!

Eglantine (shouts). O papa! How delightful!

Coddle (covering his ears). Softly, my darling, softly. You kill me! I hear almost too well. You deafen me. My hearing is now abnormal; actually abnormal, it is so acute.

Eglantine (aside). Perhaps he can be cured, then. (Shouts.) Dearest papa, you cannot conceive how delighted I am.

Coddle. Whisper, Eglantine, for Heaven’s sake! You, torture me!

Eglantine (shouts). Yes, papa.

Coddle. Sh—sh—for mercy’s sake!

Eglantine (softly). Forgive me, papa, it’s habit. O papa, I’ve seen him!

Coddle (aside). I hear every word. Seen whom?

Eglantine. The gentleman you have chosen for my husband.

Coddle. Husband? Oh, ah! I’d forgotten him. (Aside.) I really am cured!

Eglantine. Poor young man! I was miserable at first. I cried, oh, so hard!

Coddle. Darling, you mustn’t cry any more.

Eglantine. No, papa, I won’t, for I like him extremely now. He’s so handsome, and so amiable! I’ve met him before.

Coddle. Tut, tut, child! I’ll see him hanged first.

Eglantine. What? Why, papa, you asked him to marry me, Jane says.

Coddle. Yes, when I was deaf. Now, however—what! marry my darling to a deaf man? Never!

Eglantine. O papa, you are cured: perhaps he can be cured in the same way.

Coddle. Impossible! He’s too deaf. I never knew a worse case.

Eglantine. The doctor might try.

Coddle. Impossible, I tell you. Besides, he’s gone away.

Eglantine. Let’s send after him.

Coddle. Not another word, my love, about that horrible deaf fellow! I asked him to dine here to-day, like an old ass; but I’ll pack him off immediately after.

Eglantine (angrily). Another offer thrown away! Papa, you will kill me with your cruelty. (Weeps.)

Coddle. Pooh, darling, I’ve another, much better offer on hand. I got a letter this morning from my friend Pottle. His favorite nephew—charming fellow.

Eglantine (sobbing). I won’t take him.

Coddle. Eglantine, a capital offer, I tell you. Capital! Young, brilliant, rich.

Eglantine. I won’t take him! I won’t take him! I won’t take him! (Stamps.)

Coddle. But, Eglantine—

Eglantine. No, no, no, no, no! I’ll die an old maid first! I’ll kill myself if I can’t marry the man I love. (Exit, weeping.)

Coddle. (Solus.) The image of her mother! The villain has bewitched her! And to think I’ve asked him to dinner! A scamp I don’t know, and never heard of, and who came into my house like a murderer, smashing all my hot-houses! Confound him, I’ll insult him till he can’t see out of his eyes! I’ll dine him with a vengeance! And I’ll hand him over to the police afterwards for malicious mischief—the horrid deaf ruffian! The audacity of daring to demand my daughter’s hand! Deaf as he is! (Bell heard.) Ha! what’s that infernal noise? A fire? (Opens window.) Bah! Jane ringing the dinner-bell. Stop, stop, stop that devilish tocsin! (Looks down into garden.) There sits the miscreant, reading a paper, and hearing nothing of a bell loud enough to wake the dead. Detestable blockhead! There goes Jane to call him. Faithful Jane! I long to witness the joy which irradiates her face, dear soul, when I tell her I can hear. She loves me so sincerely! (Calls.) Jane!—A servant of an extinct species. None like her nowadays. Jane, Jane! (Enter Jane with soup-tureen.) I’ve news for you, my faithful Jane.

Jane. Oh, shut up!

Coddle. Eh! (Looks round in bewilderment.)

Jane (sets table, puts soup, &c., on it). There’s your soup, old Coddle. Mollycoddle, I calls you!

Coddle (aside). Bless my soul! she’s speaking to me, I think. Can it be possible? Mollycoddle!

Jane. If it war’n’t for that tuppenny legacy, old Cod, I’d do my best to pop you into an asylum for idiots. Yar! (Exit, C., meets Whitwell.)

Coddle. Old Cod! So this is her boasted fidelity, her undying affection! Why, the faithless, abominable, ungrateful, treacherous vixen! But her face is enough to show the vile blackness of her heart! I’ve suspected her for months. After all my kindness to her, too! And the money I’ve bequeathed her. She sha’n’t stay another twenty-four hours in my house. (Sees Whitwell.) Nor you either, you swindling vagabond.

Whitwell. Hallo, the wind’s shifted with a vengeance! (Shouts.) Thank you, you’re very kind. I accept your suggestion with great pleasure.

Coddle. Confound his impertinence! (Bows.) Very sorry I invited you, you scamp! Hope you’ll find my dinner uneatable.

Whitwell. What can have happened? Does he suspect me? (Shouts.) Very true; a lovely prospect indeed.

Coddle. Bah! the beast! A man as deaf as this fellow (bows, and points to table) should be hanged as a warning. (Politely.) This is your last visit here, I assure you.

Whitwell. If it were only lawful to kick one’s father-in-law, I’d do it on the spot. (Shouts.) Your unvarying kindness to a mere stranger, sir, is an honor to human nature.

Coddle (points). Take a chair, sir. (Pulls away best chair, and goes for another.) No, no: shot if he shall have the best chair in the house! If he don’t like it, he can lump it.

Whitwell. Mighty polite! Ah! I see. He’s testing me. I’ll humor him.

Coddle (returns with a stool). Here’s the proper seat for you, you pig! (Shouts.) I offer you this with the greatest pleasure.

Whitwell