MOLLY, (putting a hat upon the doll's head.) There, now she is dressed! how pretty she looks! How beautifully I dress my doll. SALLY. And I have my own genius; I can pull her to pieces in a minute! MOLLY. Yes, you are famous for pulling your playthings to pieces. If I were your mamma I would scold-I would say, "Take care of your playthings, miss, or I shall be angry. Do you understand me, miss ?" SALLY. You frighten me with your grimaces-you speak like that ugly Arabella, who makes poor Cecilia cry so much. Mammas never are so severe ! MOLLY. Oh yes! if poor Cecilia only had a mamma! SALLY. But Lady Arabella gives her a great many superb things, bracelets, and ear-rings, and— MOLLY. That is not what makes one happy. I have found Cecilia crying alone in the garden twenty times; and I, who have not a single jewel, laugh and jump in my linen frock and straw hat. SALLY. Give me your doll, I want to give it some breakfast. (She snatches the doll and takes up a sugared almond.) Here, miss, do you love sugared almonds? If you were like your little mamma you would not shut your lips, I fancy. MOLLY. Be still with your pretty speeches! you don't know how to make dolls eat. I will show you -give her to me. (She takes the doll and the sugared almond.) Come, miss, no ceremony. (She eats the almond herself.) Excellent! SALLY. You little rogue! I will remember that trick, you may be sure. But who is that? Lady Arabella? Let us go away before she comes. (Exeunt.) SCENE II. MRS TEACHUM AND, LADY ARABELLA. MRS TEACHUM. I only fear Cecilia's too great application. I never urge her. There is no necessity for it. LADY ARABELLA. It is right she should profit by my kindness and answer our mutual expectations. Accomplishments have become the universal fashion. A considerable fortune procured me every possible pleasure without my being obliged to devote myself to these fatiguing pursuits. I had a governess, but only to wait upon me when I went out; and as to masters, I quitted them early to go into company. The toilet, the theatre, visiting, and play, fill up my time, and I go to bed fatigued, without being obliged to resort to sewing, drawing, or playing on instruments! MRS TEACHUM. But if any unexpected events had driven you into retirement, my lady, you would have found the need of these accomplishments. LADY ARABELLA. Yes, and that is the reason I wish my niece to possess them. I think of soon withdrawing from this brilliant world, which has been so charming to me; and she must employ herself in driving away the ennui which oppresses me, and giving a little variety to the dulness which pursues me. I am glad you can encourage me to hope this from her, and here let our conversation end. But tell me sincerely, is she confidential to you? Does she tell you her little secrets? Does she speak to you of her childish attachment to the place which gave her birth? her regret for the loss of those she pompously calls the authors of her days, but who deserve no tender remembrance? She seems to me melancholy, and this must be cured. Does she feel all the value of my bounty? An orphan, and ruined by dissipated parents, does she know how to appreciate the happiness of finding a brilliant fortune again, through my care and adoption? Do you ever let her enter into the gaiety and sports of her companions, and lose this romantic melancholy which would be the torment of my life. I wish every one near me to be gentle, and obedient; but smiling, and full of vivacity. I have been advised to surround myself only with objects calculated to draw me from certain vaporish feelings, which would otherwise have an ill effect upon my health. MRS TEACHUM. Cecilia is timid and reserved, my lady: I should think it injudicious to converse with her upon subjects that would excite her feelings. But I know she is alive to your goodness, and without seeking noisy plays, she enters willingly into the amusements adapted to her age. LADY ARABELLA. I fear your enthusiasm for Cecilia makes you too indulgent a judge. Do not trust to this affected modesty. The example of her home must have been pernicious, and you know the influence of home. A giddy, coquettish mother, and a dissipated father, were her parents. I pass lightly over the cruel mortification and |