You're a sly gipsy, Dolly. But you think of me sometimes then, eh? (Pinching her ear and patting her cheek.)
WORSHIPTON(without).
Amaryllis! Amaryllis! are you at home, Amaryllis?
(Amaryllis runs back to his table again, and pretends to be writing, without attending to the inkstand and several books which he oversets in his haste, whilst Dolly makes her escape by the opposite door just as Worshipton enters.)
WORSHIPTON.
I heard you were at home, so I made bold to enter. What, writing so composedly after all this devil of a noise?
AMARYLLIS(looking up with affected apathy).
Yes, I believe the cat has been playing her gambols amongst my books.
WORSHIPTON.
It may have been the cat, to be sure, for those creatures have witchcraft about them, and can do many wonderful things o' winter nights, as
