“Let the show go on!” shouted Canty. “What, Nan! — what, Bet! mannerless wenches! will ye stand in the Prince’s presence? Upon your knees, ye pauper scum, and do him reverence!”
He followed this with another horse-laugh. The girls began to plead timidly for their brother; and Nan said —
“An thou wilt but let him to bed, father, rest and sleep will heal his madness: prithee, do.”
“Do, father,” said Bet; “he is more worn than is his wont. To-morrow will he be himself again, and will beg with diligence, and come not empty home again.”
This remark sobered the father’s joviality, and brought his mind to business.