The treaty formed between Mistress Tattle and Mr. Pye Hilary is in the next act being acted upon.  We behold Captain Tarradiddle, as one of the high contracting parties’ ambassador, taking lodgings in a house exactly opposite to that in which Miss Mayley resides.  Of course nothing so natural as that the Captain should indulge his friend with a visit for a few days, or, if possible, for a few weeks.  It is also natural that the host, under the circumstances, should wish to know something of the birth, parentage, and education of his guest, of which, though an old acquaintance; he is, as yet, entirely ignorant.  Now, if it be possible to affront a real sponge (but there is nothing more difficult), such inquiries are likely to produce that happy consummation. Tarradiddle, however, gets over the difficulty with the tact peculiar to his class, and is fortunately interrupted by the announcement that Tattle is in the parlour, duly keeping her agreement, by bringing her mistress’s favourite canary, which, having flown away quite by accident, under her guidance, has chosen to perch in Hilary’s new lodging, on purpose to give him the opportunity of returning it, and of obtaining an interview with Miss Mayley.  The expedient succeeds in the next scene; the lover bows and stammers—­as lovers do at first interviews—­the lady is polite but dignified, and Tarradiddle, who has been angling for an invitation, has his hopes entirely put to flight by the entrance of the lady’s guardian, Mr. Warner, who very promptly cuts matters short by ringing the bell and saying “Good evening,” in that tone of voice which always intimates a desire for a good riddance.  This hint is too broad ever to be mistaken; so the sponge and his victim back out.

Mr. Warner is a merchant, and all merchants in plays are the “noblest characters the world can boast,” and very rich.  Thus it has happened that Warner has, through a money-agent, one Grub, been enabled to lend, at various times, large sums of money, to Lady Norwold—­her ladyship being one of those who, dreading “what will the world say?” is by no means an economist, and prefers “ruin to retrenchment.”  As security for these loans, the lady deposits her jewels, suite by suite, till the great object of all Warner’s advances gets into his possession—­namely, a bracelet, which is a revered relic of the Norwold family.  So far Warner, in spite of a troublesome ward, and his late visitors, is happy; but he soon receives a letter, which puts his happiness to flight.  His daughter, who has been on a visit in Paris, became, he now learns, united some months before, to Charles Norwold, and a governess in his father’s family.  By further inquiries, he learns that the son is discarded, and is, with his wife, consigned to beggary, for fear of—­“what will the world say?”