past—bride? I hope she'll not be—may I not have the honor of seeing—Miss Louisa?     

       MRS MILLER. Thanks for inquiries, Mr. Seckertary, but my daughter is not at all proud.     

       MILLER (angry, jogs her with his elbow). Woman!     

       MRS MILLER. Sorry she can't have that honor, Mr. Seckertary. My daughter is now at mass.     

       WORM. I am glad to hear it,—glad to hear it. I shall have in her a pious, Christian wife!     

       MRS MILLER (smiling in a stupidly affected manner). Yes—but, Mr. Seckertary——     

       MILLER (greatly incensed, pulls her ears). Woman!     

       MRS MILLER. If our family can serve you in any other way—with the greatest pleasure, Mr. Seckertary——     

       WORM (frowning angrily). In any other way? Much obliged! much obliged!—hm! hm! hm!     

       MRS MILLER. But, as you yourself must see, Mr. Seckertary——     

       MILLER (in a rage, shaking his fist at her). Woman!     

       MRS MILLER. Good is good, and better is better, and one does not like to stand between fortune and one's only child (with vulgar pride). You understand me, Mr. Seckertary?     

       WORM. Understand. Not exac—-. Oh, yes. But what do you really mean?     

       MRS MILLER. Why—why—I only think—I mean—(coughs). Since then Providence has determined to make a great lady of my daughter——     

       WORM (jumping from his chair). What's that you say? what?     

       MILLER. Keep your seat, keep your seat, Mr. Secretary! The woman's an out-and-out fool! Where's the great lady to come from? How you show your donkey's ears by talking such stuff.     

       MRS MILLER. Scold as long as you will. I know what I know, and what the major said he said.     

       MILLER (snatches up his fiddle in anger). Will you hold your tongue? Shall I throw my fiddle at your head? What can you know? What can he have said? Take no notice of her clack, 

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