With. Poo! there is no body there.
Har. Well, I said—I think I told you—In faith, my good sir, I will tell you honestly, I have forgot what I meant to say.
With. No matter, you will remember it again. Ha, ha, ha! it puts me in mind of a little accident which happened to myself when I was in Lincoln's Inn. Two or three of us met one evening, to be a little cheerful together, and—(Whilst Withrington begins his story, Agnes enters softly from the adjoining closet unperceived; but Harwood on seeing her, runs eagerly up to her, leaving Withrington astonished, in the middle of his discourse.)
Har. to Ag. Ha! after so many false alarms, you steal upon us at last like a little thief.
Ag. And I steal something very good from you too, if you lose my uncle's story by this interruption; for I know by his face he was telling one.
With. Raillery is not always well-timed, Miss Agnes Withrington.
Ag. Nay, do not be cross with us, sir. Mr. Harwood knew it was too good to be spent upon one pair of ears, so he calls in another to partake.
With. Get along, baggage.
Ag. So I will, uncle; for I know that only means with you that I should perk myself up by your elbow.
With. Well, two or three of us young fellows were met—did I not say—
Ag. At Lincoln's Inn. (Withrington hesitates.)
Har. She has named it, sir.
