Hollinger Corp. 
 pH8.5 
 
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 TOM NODDY'S SECRET, 
 
 ^R 4079 
 
 ^ 5F,^IE©IE3 
 
 B6 T6 
 
 IN ONE ACT. 
 
 :opy 1 
 
 
 BY THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY, ESQ. 
 
 Author of " Jfie Culprit," " You can't Marry your Grand- 
 mother" SfC. 8fc. 
 
 CORRECTLY PRINTED FROM THE MOST APPROVED 
 ACTING COPY J 
 
 WITH A DESCRIPTION OF THE COSTUME, CAST OP THE 
 
 CHARACTKRS, ENTRANCES AND EXITS, RELATIVE 
 
 POSITIONS, AND THE WHOLE OF THE STAGE 
 
 business; 
 To which are added, 
 
 PBOPERTIES AND DIRECTIONS, AS NOW PERFORMED IN THE 
 
 PRIKClPAli THEATRES. 
 
 BALTIMORE : 
 PUBLISHED BY JOS. ROBINSON. 
 
.34TI 
 
 
COSTUME. 
 
 CAPTAIN ORMOND.— Scarlet doublet with gold lace, 
 trimmed witli blue, blue trunks trimmed with gold lace at the 
 knee, blue silk scarf, cuirass, hat and feathers, black wig (King 
 Charles') yellow boots with lace, spurs. 
 
 TOM NODDY.— Brown tabed jacket, full trunks trimmed 
 with red braid and black velvet, black satin cloak, long black 
 satin waistcoat, long red slockings, black shoes. 
 
 INKPKN. — Light drab jacket and trunks, black stockings, 
 russet shoes. 
 
 MARY. — Blue silk and black velvet, point lace. 
 
 GABRIELLE. — White dress, point lace, hat, &c.— S'econd 
 dress. — Scarlet doublet, trimmed with gold, white trunks with 
 gold, yellow boots, black hat. 
 
 STAGE REMARKS. 
 
 L. mean first entrance, left. R. first entrance, right. S. E. 
 L. second entrance, left. S. E. It. second entrance, right. U. 
 E. L. upper enti'ance, left. U. E. R. upper entrance, right. 
 C. centre. L. C left centre. U. C. right, centre. T. E. L. 
 third entrance, left. T. E. R. third entrance right. Observing 
 you are supposed to face the audience. 
 
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TOM NODDY'S SECRET. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE 1. — The best room in JMr. Thomas JVod(It/''s house; 
 globes, bonks, old fashioned furniture, a door in c. opening to 
 a garden ; a -windoio to the n . and on the same side a table, 
 with writing materials ; on the i. a door. 
 
 Eiiter Inkpkn and Makt. 
 
 Inkpen. Am 1 never to have an answer, Miss Mary ? I've 
 ■waited till 1 can wait no longer, you know I love you, will you 
 be mine ? 
 
 Mary. You have my answer, Mr. Inkpen ; I've referred you 
 to my uncle. 
 
 Inkpen. But wliat's the use of my going to him ? You know 
 very well that there's no getting a plain answer to a plain ques- 
 tion out of him. He never can make up his mind as to what 
 he ought to do, until it's too late to do it — and even if it were 
 otherwise, hjs memory is so bad, that he would never remem- 
 ber to-morrow the decision he came to-day. What's the use 
 of asking his sanction to our marriage ; his reply will be: "We'll 
 see about it, I'll not forget to remember to turn it over in my 
 mind by-and-by ;" and then he'll tie a knot in his handkerchief, 
 and entirely forgftt,ten minutes afterwards, why he tied it, 
 
 JMary. (n.) It is too true, yet 1 cannot marry without his 
 consent — can't you be content to enjoy my society daily ? 
 
 Inkpen. No, Miss Mary, I can't because other young men 
 come and get smiles surreptitiously, that ought, by riglils, all 
 to belong to me. 
 
 jyiary. I'm afraid you're of a jealous disposition ! 
 
 Inkpen. 1 am — desperate jealous, because 1 can't be sure 
 your not marrying another, but if you were once to become 
 Mrs. Inkpen, I should be as tranquil, and happy, and confiding 
 as possible ! 
 
 Mary. Confiding! I'm sure I see no symptoms of that. 
 
 Inkpen. Because nobody can help admiring you, and because 
 you take pains to be admired — to-day, now, you look so smart ! 
 2 
 
6 rOM NODDY'S SECRET. 
 
 Mary. Oh, because we expect strangers. 
 
 Inkpen. Yonng men, I dare say — very v/eJl — you'll break 
 my heart — 1 can't rule the boys' copies straight while you go 
 on like this. 
 
 JMary. 'Ihere now ! well you shan't know who is coming — 
 the other day you actually got angry with a young man, because 
 he looked at me. 
 
 Inkpen. And very natural, too ! 
 
 JMary. Very natural that young men should look at me ! 
 
 Inkpen. Oh, Miss jNlary, you really will be the death of me ; 
 it's this terrible uncertainly that ruffles my temper, and wears 
 ine to a shadow. 
 
 JMary. Oh, no fear of your vanishing entirely — but be quiet, 
 for here comes my uncle ! 
 
 Noddy, {xvithoiit.) We'll see about it, I can't give any an- 
 swer now; we'll see about it. 
 
 Eiiier Noddy, c. 
 
 Noddy. Really I am perplexed with so many things upon my 
 mind. Ah, you there, Mary ; the boys want a half-holiday — 
 and press for an immediate answer — impossible ! 
 
 Mary. Impossible! Then you have refused the poor fel- 
 lows. 
 
 J^oddy. Ah, no! not refused — f could nottake upon decided- 
 ly to refuse — but 1 said that I'd see about it — stop, I'll tie a knot 
 in my handkerchief, and then I shall recollect to take it into con- 
 sideration, [ties a knot in his handkerchief. 
 
 Inkpen, {aside.) When the day is o'er he'll consider whether 
 it ought to have been a holiday! just the way he serves Trie. 
 (^alfAid ) Good morning to you, sir! 
 
 Noddy. Ah, you're there, are you? good morning — do you 
 "wish to speak to me i" 
 
 Inkpen. Yes; and on the old subject. 
 
 Noddy. What, spelling books wanting for the little boys; or 
 rules or slates, or 
 
 Inkpen. No, no; I come once more to ask your consent. 
 Miss Mary refers me to you, and — 
 
 Noddy. Yes, yes; very proper — I'll see about it— we'll talk 
 of this another time— this day week— or — stop — I'll put my 
 ring on another finger, and then I shall remember tc — 
 
 [looks at his hand. 
 
 Inkpen. I cannot be put off any longer, sir; you know I have 
 a little independence, and you must decide one way or another 
 — yes or no. 
 
TOM NODDY'S SECRET. 7 
 
 Noddtf, {who has been looking- puzzled.) Well, 1 declare, 1 
 had already changed my ring from the forefinger of my right 
 hand, to the forefinger of my left— do you see that ? 
 
 Iiikpen. What has that to do with my question ? 
 
 Noddy, {trying to remember.) I must have changed that ring 
 because 1 had a particular reason for wishing to remember some 
 particular thing— something that I wished to see about. 
 
 Inkpen. I dare say it was my marriage with Mary. 
 
 Noddy. Hey ? your marriage — it might be — but no, I don't 
 think that was it— you confuse me, putting two ideas into my 
 hea<l at one time — it's too much — let me sec — that ring — 
 
 Inkpen. Well, stick to one idea — my marriage is to take place ? 
 
 Noddy. We'll see about it, you're a very excellent gootl crea- 
 ture, but it's impossible for me to give you an answer to-day. 
 
 Jnkpen. Oh, yes, come — let me go, and buy the ring. 
 
 Noddy, {looking at his hand.) The ring — I must have changed 
 that for some very important reason. 
 
 Jnkpen. Sir, you are very unkind. 
 
 Noddy. Hey — what were you saying ? 
 
 Inkpen. Very ! for you know I would do any thing to serve 
 you. 
 
 Noddy. I believe it, I do indeed ! You're a good creature, 
 and now you really can serve me materially. 
 
 Inkpen. Only tell me how .'' 
 
 Noddy. Just by going away, and leaving me alone with my 
 niece to collect my ideas and — {lookiiig at his hand) — Why in 
 the world did L change my ring. [crosses to l. 
 
 Inkpen, {angry.) Oh, this is too bad ! Sir, I'd have you to 
 know — 
 
 Jliary, {advancing from her -work.) Hush — my uncle does not 
 mean to offend you — pray leave us together. 
 
 Inkpen. I cannot stand this; I'm furious! 
 
 Noddy. Yes — yes — good bye, Inkpen ; go and keep the boys 
 in order ; and as for you, Mary, we'll see about it. 
 
 Alary, {aside.) Go — go — make no reply. I will see you 
 again by and by. 
 
 Inkpen, (u.) Remember your promise : as for your uncle, if 
 he does not soon give me an answer, I'll run away with you. 
 
 Mary. Yes— yes — we'll see about it. Ha! ha! go along. 
 
 [Exit Inkpen, n. 
 We are alone now, uncle : he is gone. 
 
 Noddy. I'm delighted to hear it, for he ruffled my temper and 
 confused my ideas at a moment when I require all my self-pos- 
 session ; this day my head ought to be particularly clear, {takes 
 out his handkerchief, and notices the knot -which he made when 
 3 • 
 
8 TOM NODDY'S SECRET. 
 
 he frst entered.) Heyday, what's this ? a knot in my handker- 
 chief! dear me, I must have made it, because 1 wished particu- 
 larly to remember something — but wliat it was, 1 have now en- 
 tirely forgotten ! 
 
 Jlla'i/. How very unfortunate! 
 
 Noddy. Yes; but 1 know how to remedy ihe evil. I'll make 
 a knot in another corner to remind me to take care and recol- 
 lect what reason I had for making the first knot- 
 
 [makes another knot. 
 JMa'y. But what was it you were going to tell me, uncle? 
 You said you would require all your self-possession. 
 
 Noddy. Ay — very likely — 1 often do — but why more particu- 
 larly at this moment I really forget, but we'll see about it; and, 
 perhaps by clianging my ring from one finger to another, 1 may 
 by and-by be able to — 
 
 Jllary, [aside ) Oh, this is hopeless ! 
 
 Noddy. Ah now, 1 know — yes — yes — it has jast flashed upon 
 mc. 
 
 JMary. Then make haste and tell me, for fear you should for- 
 get it again. 
 
 Noddy. Yes — yes — It is because I expect Captain Ormond to 
 arrive to-day. 
 
 JMary. His servant is here already, and is now preparing his 
 chamber. 
 
 Noddy. Very gof^d — let me s^e, there was something else I 
 had to ask — oh — and Gabriel le — is she arrived yet ? 
 
 jyjary. No! and pray why have you sent for her from her 
 school at I'ewkfbui-y i" 
 
 Noddy. Hectuse I had a letter from the captain. Oh, my 
 dear, you don't know the bother I'm in! I stnt a coach and 
 horses for her, 1 could not do more, and she ought to have been 
 here by this time. 
 
 J fan/. And do you expect the captain to-day ? 
 Noddy. To-day ! I trust not ! but very probably, and at all 
 events sooner or later the worst must be known. 
 
 JMary. What can be the matter now? whenever Captain Or- 
 mond has been mentioned of late, you have seemed so fright- 
 ened ; dear uncle, if there be any little difficulty let us talk it 
 over itefore he comes. 
 
 Noddy. Little difficulty ! he'll probably kill me, he'll be so 
 furious. 
 
 JMary. Oh, impossible! pray tell me all. 
 
 Noddy. Hey i" all ? all what P Oh, I know— about Captain 
 Ormond — yes — yes— you were too young to remember the cir- 
 cumstances— you could not have been more than eight or ten 
 
TOM NODDY'S SECREl'. 9 
 
 years old— for that was in the year 1651— and we are now in the 
 month of June, 1660. So it's nine years ago, and £ then lived, 
 just where 1 live now, in the environs of Worcester town, and 
 had written in letters of gold over my door — *' Mr. Tom Nod- 
 dy, teacher of Latin, Greek, Writing End Arithmetic." <Vnd 
 it had a very striking effect, as it has now. One day — no, it was 
 not in the day — but it was one night— just after the terrible hat- 
 tie which took place here ; when the streets were strewed with 
 dead bodies, when our present good king Charles was conquered, 
 and William the Conqueror — no — no — I don't mean him—but 
 the forces of Oliver Cromwell gained the day. Well, one nigiit 
 a rap came at my door, and the battle being quite over, when the 
 rap had been violently repeated six or seven times, I desired 
 some one to open it, and there was a soldier, one of the royalist 
 party, a handsome joiing mati of nineteen or twenty, who bore 
 before him on bis war-horse a beautiful little boy. 
 
 JVJary. And the young soldier was Captain Ormond ? 
 
 Hoddy. Now you really put me out; he certainly Avas not a 
 captain then, and if I call him a captain in that portion of my 
 story when he was not a captain, 1 shall never be able to retain 
 the thread of my discourse. 
 
 jyiary. Well, pray go on. 
 
 Noddy. He held by the hand as he entered my house, a beau- 
 tiful little boy, about eight years old. "Sir," said he, bowing 
 gracefully, " you are, I believe, an instructor of young gentle- 
 men ?" — sir," said I, " I'm Tom Noddy, and such is my profes- 
 sion." — "Well," continued the little fellow, no, the soldier — 
 '* here is a little fellow that I wish to have in your care — here is 
 a purse, containing fifty broad pieces, and you shall yearly re- 
 ceive an adequate sum for his maintenance and education. I 
 I have not time to say mnie, my royal master is closely pursued, 
 and [ must rejoin him, adieu!" 
 
 Mary. And thus he quitted you ? 
 
 Noddy. Yes : he remounted his horse, and galloped away — I 
 took up the purse, and looked at the — the — little individual — I 
 resolved to do my duty, and certainly the stranger was as good 
 as his word, for his remittances have regularly reached me. 
 
 JHary. Hark ! I hear a carriage ! 
 
 [Gabrielle speaks -mthoUt, c. 
 
 Noddy- Ah ! it is (lahrielle! how delighted I am that she is 
 arrived before the captain ! 
 
 Enter GAnniELLE. 
 Gabrielle, (runs to Noddy.) My dear friend, I am so glad to 
 see you, and you too, Mary — how you are improved ! I'tn so 
 
10 TOM NODDY'S SECRET. 
 
 gl:ul to see this place, for it's the fii-st home that I can remem- 
 ber, 
 
 .Mary, (ii.) We are equally ?;hv\ to see yon, dear Gabrielle 
 — 1 ilcclarc she is quite grown, is she not, uncle .'' 
 
 Noddij, (t.) I really cannot take upon myself to answer that 
 question decidedly at the momer.t, but we'll see about it — we'll 
 measure her. 
 
 Gabrielle. I'm sure you will not hesitate to say that you are 
 glad to see me, which is much more to the purpose. 
 
 Noddy. Giad! why really — 1 — don't know what to say, my 
 dear, tor my mind is sadly harrassed. 
 
 Gabrielle. I suppose somethinsj extraordinary has occurred by 
 your sending for me in such haste. 
 
 JVoddy. My dear, 1 was obliged to send for you, for a most 
 emharrasing reason — very embarrasing indeed ! 
 
 Gabrielle. Indeed ! 
 
 Noddy. Yes, in fact Captain Ormond is coming. 
 
 Gabrielle. Captain Ormond ! What my kind benefactor who 
 has been nbsent for so many years, has so regularly remitted to 
 you such large sums on my account — ah, how 1 do long to see 
 him — he h;*s been to me a father — brother — friend, liut for 
 him I might have perished, or should at all events been poor 
 and uneducated ; did you say he was coming here .'' 
 
 Aoddy. Why, certainly 1 committed myself so far, having re- 
 ceived a letter fron^. him, to — 
 
 Ga'rielle. To announce his arrival ! I'hen 1 was not mis- 
 taken ; I have already seen him. 
 
 jYoddy. Seen him — oh, dear ! 
 
 Gabri-^lle. A few miles from hence as the carriage was pass- 
 ing a gentleman on horseback— the horse started, reared violent- 
 ly, and he was thrown, but in a moment he regained his saddle, 
 and gaily waved his hand to me lo assure me of his safely — lam 
 sure it was captain Ormond ; 1 could not imagine when or 
 where I had seen him before, but now 1 can have no doubt. 
 
 A'oddy. Oh — impossible you should remember him j you 
 were a mere child when last you saw him. 
 
 Gabrielle. True 5 but I was a child w ho looked upon the pre- 
 server of my life — such impressions are not easily obliterated. 
 
 J\'oddy. She knew him— dear me dear me — how very 
 
 embarrassing ! 
 
 Gabrielle. And he wrote to you. 
 
 jYoddy. Hey? yes, here's his letter. 
 
 Jiary. Well then, you had better read it to us — we shall un- 
 derstand all about it. 
 
 Gabrielle. Yes — yes ; read it ! 
 
TOM NODDY'S SECRET. 11 
 
 JSoddyy C crosses to c.) What .'—read it jovl say ? Why yes 
 perl)aps that is the step I ought to take, f reads. J " London, 
 June 21st, 1660.— Dear Sir,— I have been at length enabled to 
 acconapany ray royal master to London, after a long and pain- 
 ful exile. 
 
 Gabrielle. A painful exile ! poor fellow ! 
 
 J\roddy,(rea(ls.J "Though I have not heard from you, I 
 have ascertained that you are living in the same place ; my re- 
 mittances have, I trust, reached you with punctuality, and I now 
 am most anxious to see the dear child I placed under your care, 
 I long to embrace him and call him my son !" 
 
 Gahrldle. His son / 
 
 Noddy, {confused.) Yes, it is in the letter, f spelling J M T 
 S O N Son / my son / 
 
 Gabrielle. Ah, then Captain Ormond left another child in 
 your care ? 
 
 Noddy. No — oh dear no — only you. 
 
 Gabrielle. But he says — 
 
 Noddy. Yes, he says « my son,"— and you see that is precise- 
 ly what renders my situation at this moment so peculiarly em- 
 barrassing; but the mistake was natural enough, for when he 
 found you first, and indeed, when he brought you to me, you 
 had on a pair of— that is— I mean— you were a little boy— no— no 
 — dressed in boy's clothes. 
 
 Gabrielle. Gov's clothes. 
 
 Noddy. Yes— 1 suppose, in time of trouble, little boys are sup- 
 posed to be in less peril than little girls, and so those about you, 
 in the midst of the battle and murder that was going on in the 
 town of Worcester, thought it prudent to put you in a little 
 
 ^^ Gabrielle, (hastily.) But Captain Ormond— Ae knows all this 
 of course you told him ! 
 
 Noddy. I'old him, my dear ! I've never seen him since ! 
 
 Gabrielle. But you wrote to him— it was your duty to write 
 
 Noddy. My poor wife, who was living then— though you're 
 aware, that now, unfortunately, she — 
 
 Gabrielle. Yes— yes— but Captain Ormond, go on. 
 
 Noddy. Why my wife, who of course had the care of yoti, 
 certainly advised me to write to the captain— and tell him that 
 we would take great care of his little girl— fiWfe^ir^ of course 
 dashed— 
 
 Gabrielle. Well— and you— 
 
 Noddy. 1 always said, I'd see about it 1 and— 
 
 Gabrielle. But you did write ? 
 
12 TOM NODDY'S SECRET. 
 
 Noddy. Why, I put it off so long that I did not know what 
 excuse to make for not having done it before — ai»d at last — 
 Gabrielle. Well, at last you wrote ? 
 
 Noddy. No. At last, there was a difficulty about his address 
 — he was following in the suit of the exiled king — now in the low 
 countries, and now in the high countries ; now in France, and 
 now in Holland ; so that unless 1 had directed my letter to 
 " Captain Ormond, Poste llestant Europe," it stood no chance 
 of reaching him '. 
 
 Gabrielle. Oh, what a sad error! this dear friend that I have 
 so longed to meet — may look on me with disappointment. He 
 liastens to meet a son ! 
 
 Noddy. Yes — yes — it's dreadful ! I see all the difficulties of 
 my situation ! 
 
 Gabrielle. He will look upon me as an annoyance — he must 
 have arranged all his plans. 
 
 Noddy. Oh yes, and has sent a beautiful horse, for his son to 
 ride upon — and the prettiest uniform I ever saw in my life ; he 
 has secured you a post near the king ! 
 
 Gabrielle. Poor fellow ! what a disappointment ! Oh, that I 
 were a boy ! to be a son to him, I would love him, how I would 
 exert myself to please him ! 
 
 Noddy. What will become of us ? and the horse too? and 
 the uniform ? He ought to have sent your virginals, or an em- 
 broidery frame, 
 
 Gabrielle. He must know the truth at once ! 
 Noddv. To be sure— we'll see about it — and, by the by, I 
 think you'd much better tell him yourself. 
 
 Gabrielle. Impossible '. he would dislike me — and were he to 
 frown on me, it would kill me. 
 
 Noddy. Kill you ! That would be serious! Then Mary, my 
 dear you had better tell him ! 
 
 Mary. Remember, uncle, that after all you will be responsi- 
 ble, for to you the child was confided — you must tell him your- 
 self. 
 
 Noddy. Dear me, we'll see about it — we certainly — 
 Gabrielle. Hark! I hear a horse— it stops at the gate — 'tis 
 Ormond ! 
 
 Noddy. Oh ! what will become of me ? 
 
 Gabrielle. Had not this ciuel concealment been carried on, 
 how joyfully I should have met him ! 
 
 Mary. Come with me, Gabrielle, my uncle must first see hira 
 alone. [Exeunt Gabriellk and Mart, ii. 
 
 Noddy. Don't leave me ! They are gone ! She talked of a 
 cruel concealment! cruel! They'll all execrate me — here he 
 comes ! 
 
TOM NODDY'S SECRE T. 13 
 
 Ormo7i(l, (as he enters c.) Very well, I shsill find him, I dare 
 say, (sees Noddy.) Oh yes, here he is — give me your hjjiu! — 1 
 now remember you perfectly, I must consider you an old friend 
 
 Noddy, (embarraseed,) 1 — yes — certainlj'. (aside.) What 
 will become of me ? 
 
 Or'TiOnd. And the child — my dear boy — my adopted son — my 
 adopted son — how is he i" is he here ? I long to see him ! 
 
 Noddy. And — and you really knew me .'' 
 
 Ormond. Oh yes, the same open, frank countenance ; no de- 
 ceit, no ! 
 
 Noddy. Hem ! 
 
 Ormond. Hut whei'e is my boy ? 
 
 Noddi) . You must be fatigued ! 
 
 Ortnond. No — no — where is he ? 
 
 Noddy. But you are scarcely arrived, and — 
 
 Ormond. My only object is to see him 1 
 
 Noddy. You must lake some refreshment, and then we'll 
 see alMjut it. 
 
 Ormond. 1 require no refreshments ; besides, I met with a 
 slight accident — 
 
 Noddy. An accident — dear me ! 
 
 Ormond. Oh, nothing — a mere trifle — I am not so nu fait 
 with my horsemanship, as 1 was before I left England, my steed 
 threw me — at the moment, the prettiest little woman I ever 
 saw in my life, passed in a carriage ; she looked frightened out 
 of her wits, and was out of sight before I could do more than as- 
 sure her by a gesture that I was safe. 
 
 Noddtf. Safe — I'm very glad, (aside.) I should not have ob- 
 jected if a few little bruises had detnined him at the inn! 
 Ortnond. Miit the boy— pray fetch him. 
 
 Noddy. What boy ? I beg pardon — yes I know. 
 
 Ormond. Hut by what name do you call him ;' 1 forgot (hat. 
 Noddy. Oh, Gabrielle ! [pro7iouncirg il as a female name. 
 
 Ormond. Gabriel ! (pronowicin^ it as a male.) Why did you 
 choose that name — it savours a little of the Puritans — but no 
 matter, the days of Oliver are at an end — and Gabriel- — yes, 1 
 daie say, I shall like that name very well. 
 
 JVoddy. I'm glad you don't object to the name, because you 
 see viewing names historically there are many names — 
 
 Ormond. Methinks 1 see the dear boy now. 
 JVoddy. (adde,) I wish you did with all my heart, (alond.) 
 1 can fully enter into your impatience — for when one has saved 
 the life of a fellow ci-eature, it is natural (hat one shouh! — by 
 the by, I don't think I ever knew how it was you saved the — the 
 — little indiviihial's life ? You had not time to see me, and the 
 —the — little individual was 50 young that — 
 
14 TOM NODDY'S SECRET. 
 
 Ormond. You must remember the situation of the town after 
 the unfortunate battle, as 1 rode from the field I saw crouching 
 hcneatli a tent tlie form of a beautiful \?oman — she was dying, 
 and by her side was a lovely boy. 
 
 J\'ocldy. A boy ! 
 
 Ormtmd. The mother expired ; but I snatched up the child 
 and bore him to your house j you know the rest, aud now at 
 once, let me see Gabriel. 
 
 JSfoddy. 1 must speak. 
 
 Ormond. What is the matter— is the boy ill ? 
 
 J\oddy. The l)oy ! 
 
 Ormond. Is the child alive ? 
 
 JK'oddi/. Yes; the child is quite well — giiile. 
 
 Ormond. Heaven be praised ! But if well, why is he not here. 
 
 J\oddy. Why before you see the — the — individual, I think I 
 ought loo speak a few words. 
 
 Ormond. Oh ! he has beed too gay? has spent too much mo- 
 ney ? and flirted with too many pretty girls ? 
 
 Aoddy No — no. 
 
 Ormond. Played deeply? I can forgive anything, and he will 
 offend no more. If he is in debt, I will settle all demands. 
 
 Noddy. No — that is not it. I can't tell you; you keep guess- 
 ing so quick ! 
 
 Ormond. Then he is in love ? No matter, he will forget all 
 that when I take him to the regiment. 
 
 Noddy. The regiment ! 
 
 Ormond. By the by, has he tried on the uniform I sent him i" 
 Did he like it? 
 
 Noddy. Oh, the — the individual is always delighted with every 
 new proof of your affection. 
 
 Ormond. The dear boy ! — honoured as I am with the favour 
 of my sovereign, my protege, is sure of rising rapidly in the array 
 — I'll teach him to fence — to practise with the pistol — ay — and 
 to ride too — though my own fall this morning shows me rather 
 out of practice myself. 
 
 Noddy, f aside. J We'll see about it. 
 
 Ormond. You know I always told you that he was to be 
 brought up as a soldier. Of course you attended to my wishes. 
 
 Noddy. Oh, yes ; as far as lay in my power: but if his natural 
 turn did not lie tliat way, you can't blame me. 
 
 Ormond. Why you don't mean to saj' my boy's a coward ? 
 
 Noddy. I'm not at all conscious of having used such an ex- 
 pression : but you know you are a very young man still, or you'll 
 be falling in love, and going away — and you'll forget the — the 
 individual. 
 
TOM NODDY'S SECRET. 15 
 
 Ormond. No never — he is my adopted son, and he alone en- 
 gross my afFeclions. [ Crosses to u. 
 
 Noddi), Well, we shall certainly see about it — and— 
 
 Urmond, {looking from windoiv.) Ah, who is that pretty wo- 
 man now walking in your garden ? 
 
 Noddy. A pretty woman ! Cloaks out. J 
 
 Ormond. That's the identical beauty who passed me when I 
 fell this morning — tell me, is she your relation ? 
 
 Noddy. I certainly look upon her as a sort of relation. 
 
 Ormond. You must introduce me. 
 
 Noddy, C aside. J Now this is an additional pei'plexity. 
 
 Ormond. And now send Gabriel to me, 1 will not wait a mo- 
 ment longer. 
 
 Noddy, Caside.J Anything to get out of the room {aloud.) 
 Certainly we'll see about it. f aside. J She shall come and tell 
 her own story. [Exit, n. 
 
 Ormond. A tiresome old man ! But if he has done his duty, 
 to my boy, I shall excuse every thing — every moment seems an 
 age. f^oes to ivindoiv.J Nobody in the garden, not even that 
 pretty girl 1 saw just now — she might have amused me. 
 
 {JVhilehe lotks from the ivindoiv. Noddy enters in front ~Mih 
 Gabihelle, in a handsome uniform^ R. 
 
 Noddy, Caside.J Why am I to come with you ? you had 
 much better go alone. 
 
 Gahrielle, Caside.J 1 dare not, I am so frightened ! 
 
 Noddy, Cf^iside.J But I don't understand wiiat you are going 
 to do or say i" 
 
 Gabrielle, {aside.) Present me — name me — that is all I ask 
 —I will then speak for myself. 
 
 JVoddy. Oh, well — if tiiat's all, certainly, Captain Ormond ? 
 
 Ormond, (^f7;7Vitn_§'._^ Yes ; who is this? 
 
 Noddy, C pointing to Gabrielle.J The — the individual. 
 
 Ormond. Gabriel ? 
 
 Noddy. Yes. 
 
 Ormond, (runs to her. ) My dear boy — my dear son! 
 
 f Grasps her hand. 
 
 Gabrielle. Oh, my friend — my dear — dear benefactor ! 
 {Falls on her knee, and kisses his hand — Oumond raises and 
 embraces her. 
 
 Ormond. My son — my dear son ! — Hang it, I can't see, I surely 
 ean't be crying ! Call me your father. 
 
 Gabrielle. Oh, no — you don't look like my father, you are so 
 young. 
 
16 TOM NODDY'S SECIiET. 
 
 Ormoud. Ant! my uniform fits you ! yet I must confess I ex- 
 pected to see a taller and more military figure. 
 
 Gabrlelle. You are clisai)[)oinletl. 
 
 Orino7id. No, on my honour— just as I see you now, I \voultl 
 liave you ever reniain — I feel ha[>py while I gaze on you 
 {aside.) Wh:»t can the ohl man he fidgeting abjul ? 
 
 Noddy. I'll leave you together now, 
 
 Ormond. Do so, by all means— 
 
 Noddy. Certainly, {asid\) He'll soon know all ! I shotild like 
 to lock myself up in the coal-cellar. [ExU,M. 
 
 Ormond. Give n>e your hand, are you glad to see me again ? 
 
 Gabrielle. Oh, yes ! indeed 1 am, very glad — I never was so 
 liappy before. 
 
 Ormond, [sits.) You would not have remembered me ? 
 
 Gabrielle- Oh, yes ; 1 have never forgotten you — I have 
 thought of you, dreamt of you. (asidt:.) I could not have said 
 that if it had not been for the uniform, 
 
 Ormond. And you would have known me ? 
 
 Gahrielle, {bringing a chwr ralhtr near him.) \c%\ (aide.) I 
 did know him when he fell from his horse, but 1 niust not say so ! 
 
 Orm'tnd. IJut you don't seem at your ease with me. You're 
 not afraid of me ? 
 
 Gabrielle, [d-'aiving nearer.) Oh, no, sir, not at all ! 
 
 Ormond. Sir; you are not to call me "Sir !" 
 
 Gabrielle. Well then, Capt 
 
 am 
 
 Ormond. Caplahi ! just as bad ! 
 
 Gabrielle. What would you have me call you ? 
 
 Ormond. Uemember I have protected you since you were an 
 infant — you have knov.-n no other father — what then does yo.u* 
 own heart bid you call me? 
 
 Gabrielle, [taking his hand.) Ormond, dear Ormond— 
 
 Ormond. That's right, dear Gabriel ! 
 
 Gabrielle. Y'ou caimot doubt my love — my gratitude I mean 
 and I only fear I shall prove unworth}' of your unc<iasing kind- 
 ness— I have no friend but you — and should you ever desert me, . 
 I am lost. 
 
 Ormond. I desert you; never f — always come to me In any 
 difficulty, you will find me ready to assist you. liven now I see 
 that there's something the matter— you are anxious and embar- 
 rassed—tell me what annoys you — perhaps you've killed a man 
 in a duel ? 
 
 Gahriel'e. Oh, ik), no ! W'hat a strange nolion ! (aside.) 
 
 Ormond. Weil, I only asked (he (pustion ; be assvu'cd, at all 
 events, that you will olways be the first ol>ject with me t 
 
 Gabrielle. Not if— if you marry. 
 
TOM NODDY S SECRET. 17 
 
 Ormond. Marry ! /marry! I'm not likely to do that — T con- 
 sider you my own child — and with such a companion, I shall not 
 think of marriage — my mind will be occupied in teaching you how- 
 to be a soldier ! 
 
 Gabrielle. {timidly.) Would a — a daughter have been equally 
 interesting to you ! 
 
 Ormond. A daughter! oh, dear, no — T should never have 
 known what to do with adaugl>ter — always sitting at work. The 
 eternal snip, snip, snip, of her scissors ringing in my ears ! Then 
 the difficulty of getting a daughter settled in life, as the saying 
 is. Oh, it would have bored me to death. But a hoy takes up his 
 little knapsack, eats whatyou eat, drinks what you drink, and is al- 
 ways content with a little homely bed spread in the corner of your 
 tent. No, no — you are niy son — and as for marriage — I swear — 
 
 Gabrielle. Oh, don't swear you'll never marry— 
 
 Ormond. And why not ? — but dear me, now I look at you 
 again, I see a likeness. 
 
 Gabrielle. Indeed ! 
 
 Ormond. Yes, to a young girl I saw just now in the garden. 
 
 Gabrielle. Indeed! Oli ! very likely — a family likeness ! 
 
 Ormond. What do you mean .'' 
 
 Gabrielle. That was my cousin. 
 
 Ormond. Your cousin ! how came you by cousins ? 
 
 Gabrielle Yes; one cousin — only one! 
 
 Ormond. Then have you discovered your relations? 
 
 Gabrielle. Oh! Mr. NodJy will tell you all about that by-and- 
 by — 1 have no relation but that little cousin — and yourself. 
 
 Ormond. And wliat is she ? 
 
 Gahr>elle. An orphan like myself. 
 
 Ormond. Where does she come from ? 
 
 Gabrielle. She has been under the care of a governess at 
 Tewkesbury, and came here to-day. 
 
 Ormond. I'rue — 1 overtook her on that road this morning. 
 
 Gabrielle. Oh, j-^es! she told me that. 
 
 Ormond. Your cousin is a charming girl." 
 
 Gabrielle. I have often been told that. 
 
 Ormond. And do you admire her i" 
 
 Gabrielle. Ob, yes — certainly. 
 
 Ormond. Then perhaps you are in love with her ? 
 
 Gabrielle. Oh, dear, no f I'm told she has had excellent oflFers, 
 but has rejected them all — she is very difficult to be pleased. 
 
 Ormond. Indeed ! 
 
 Gabrielle. (Jh, very — even 7 have failed. 
 
 Ormond. Wonderful ! but she may like another after all, 
 
 Gabrielle. I'll bet you a wager you don't succeed. 
 
18 'J OM NODDY'S SECRET. 
 
 Ormond. Oli, you lay wagers, do you .'' Well, sui>pose I try. 
 
 Gabrielle. I advise you not. 
 
 (Jnnond. Weil, perhaps you are right— so I think the sooner 
 we leave this place the hetter — I sent you a spirited horse — and 
 I long to see you bestride him. 
 
 Gabrielle, {aside.) Oh, dear me! {aloud.) A spirited horse- 
 Remember what happened X.o yoii this morning. 
 
 Ormond, {laughing.) You are at liberty to laugh at me— but 
 for all that we must go. 
 
 Gabrielle. Oh, but I can't go. 
 
 Oi inond. Why not ? 
 
 Gabrielle, {aside.) What excuse shall I make ? {aloud.) It 
 is — I don't know how to tell you — but — tlie fact is — I'm in love. 
 
 Ormond. \\ ith your cousin i" 
 
 Gabrielle. Oh, no ! 
 
 Ormond. Who is it ^ Who is the lady i" 
 
 Gabrielle. We have been brought up together, our hearts are 
 closely twined, you cannot tear them asunder. 
 
 Ormond. I must know who it is. 
 
 Gabrielle. The niece of Mr. Noddy — the adorable Mary. 
 
 Ormond. This is what old Noddy wanted to tell me ! this is 
 the mystery ! 1 must meet the old man, and speak my mind on 
 the subject. 
 
 Gabrielle. Then you will not force us asunder ? No, no. Ah ! 
 she is here, {aside.) What will poor Mary think ? 
 
 Enter Mauy, h. 
 
 jMm-y. Captain Ormond, if you wish to repose, your chamber 
 is ready for you. 
 
 Gabrielle. Ah ! dearest, best, how welcome are you. We 
 were talking of you. Most adorable creature, we are never to 
 be separated, {aside to Marij.) Take the hint from me — deny 
 nothing. 
 
 Ormond. This is the niece then i" 
 
 jyiary, {aside to Gabrielle.) What can it mean? {aloud,) So 
 you've told all i" 
 
 Gabrielle. Yes j and he consents to our union. Happy man that 
 1 am ! 
 
 Ormond. Here's a pretty piece of business! 
 
 Gabrielle, {runs and embraces Murij.) Dear, dear Mary, are 
 we not a fortunate pair ? 
 
 Enter Inkpex, b. 
 Inkpen. Hey! what! a soldier kissing Mary! Well, in my 
 life I never saw any thing to equal that ! and another soldier 
 /ookiugon! 
 
TOM NODDY'S SECRET. 19 
 
 Mary, [aside ) Ah ! what a rage he will be in ' 
 
 Ormond. You seem to have a rival, Gabriel ! 
 
 Inhpen.Yoyx d.d not expect me quite as soon, it seems, Miss 
 Mary Aoddy. J^ow I understand why I couhl get no answer 
 h s morn.Kg. Now I know why your uncle said he'd see about 
 It ! and 1 11 see about it, too, I can promise you. 
 
 Urmond, (aside.) I wish this little third person would inter- 
 fere, and break off the match. 
 
 anf/Jr'/?''"''"' %GaMelle.) Though you are a soldier, sir, 
 and I am usher, you'll find, sir, that ;t will not be easy to interl 
 tere with my pretensions with impunity. You wear a feather 
 m your cap, sir, and I only a pen behind 
 want for valor, sir, and that you shall find. 
 
 wJIT*'^'^' '"? ^"^I?"'ya Pe" behind my ear, but I dont 
 want for valor, sir, and that you shall find. \crosses to c. 
 
 ofnsTvA "'''^' '" GaWfe.) You must not alll^w that man 
 o insult you — answer him. 
 
 ^ikpen. You little whipper-snapper, I despise you ! 
 Ormond (tolnkpen.) Si,., you are behaving improperly ! 
 coSnyou." ''^^ ^'"' ^^'^ """ "^"''^•'"S "^ -hat don't 
 
 hirS'MsStLMhfr' ^''"'"^'^ """^'^ condescend to notice 
 
 ow1fZLL'"Jf^''"'^ ^-^'^^^ ''^y th^tlam mistress of my 
 own actions, and you are intrusive 
 
 lets^'jfc (.'''^T'l • {-^"^ 1'™ *« ^^ told so by a girl who 
 lets the soldiers kiss her ' 
 
 i. wnnr^Vl GnMle.) Speak to him-say one such soldier 
 IS woilh a Itusbel ol writing masters. 
 
 Gaf)rielle. Yes; one soldier is worth a b-ishel of such wrltins: 
 masters. » 
 
 Ormond, [ande.) Excellent! 
 
 Inkpen [advancing.) A bushel, sir ! take care or you'll be in 
 a peck ol troubles. 
 
 Mary. You'd belter stop, Mr. Inkpen. 
 
 Inkpen. No power shall stop me-shall I be supplanted by a 
 little contemptib e-boy-13 O Y-a thing of one syllable. 
 
 Ormond, (aside.) Box his ears ! 
 
 Gahrielle, (aside.) Do you bid me do itP 
 
 Ormond, (aside.) If you don't I'll do it myself. 
 
 Inkpen. A little weak effeminate 
 
 ,^ , „ ,, [Gabriel'e boxes his ears. 
 
 Ormond. Excellent again ! 
 
 Gabrielle, (aside.) Oh, dear! how I've hurt mv hand ' 
 
 Inkpen, (furious.) A blow !— I'll be revenged'! 
 
 Orni07id. I'll arrange this affair— you will require satisfaction, 
 
 contemptible as you are ; you shall have it, what are your arms ) 
 
X'ii" 
 
 20 TOM NODDY'S SECRET. 
 
 Inkpen, {ftirions.) Blunderbuss, rifle, musket, pistol, broad- 
 sword, small sword, sabre, cutlass, bayonet, kiiile, balchet, toma- 
 hawk, penknife ! 
 
 Gabiielle. Hush, little man, you mean birch-rod, cane aiid 
 rule, — Name your liour. 
 
 Inkpen. Ihmr, sir I All day long, from dawn to sunset, and 
 even then I'll tight by torchlight. 
 
 Ormond. At seven o'clock, at the back of the Garden. 
 
 Inkpen. I will be there to avenge that blow ! No man ever 
 struck me and lived. \_Exit, b. 
 
 Enter Noonr, ii. 
 
 Noddy. Ob, dear ! what a noise ! what's the matter i" 
 
 Oi7)iond, {coolly.) Oh, only a duel ! 
 
 A'oddy. A duel! and who is going to fight? 
 
 Ormond. My little Gabriel. 
 
 Noddy. 1 he individual, {ande to Cabrielle.) I know how to 
 prevent that. I'll tell all. 
 
 Gabiielle, [aside.) No — no — be silent — keep my secret — 
 come, Mary. [Ejceunt Gabrielle and Jilary^ l. 
 
 jYoddy. Dear me, a duel ! What is be goii.g to fight about ? 
 
 Ormond. You may thank your silly blindness. 
 
 Noddy. My silly blindness! why really — when you talk of 
 blindness I 
 
 Ormond. 1 know all. Deception is useless. 
 
 Noddy. Oh, you know alii' So much the better. 
 
 Orni'/nd. Ihen you ap|)i ove of their attachment .' 
 
 Noddy. 1 don't know w hat you mean. 
 
 Ormond. Dop't you know, tliat my adopted son Gabriel wants 
 to marry your niece, and that if we don't keep a good look out 
 they'll run away with one another."' 
 
 J\'odfly. La! bless me! what a heap of circumstances to 
 come together in one day. The — the individual run away with 
 my niece ! I don't think that likely, but we'll see about it — 
 indeed, if you wish it, I'll speak to my niece on the subject, and 
 that 1 may remember to do so, 111 tie a knot in my handker- 
 chief, {taken it out.) Well 1 protest here are two knots al- 
 ready, and I have not the remotest idea why I put them there ; 
 however, I'll make a third. [lies knot. 
 
 Ormond. It is on account of bis absurd attachment to your 
 niece that Gabriel is going to fight that usher of yours. 
 
 Noddy. And Gabrielle's really going lo fight. 
 
 Ormond. The duel once over we sliall immediately leave this 
 place for ever. Send Gabriel to me, I must see him fence be- 
 fore his life is placed in peril. Should I not find him equal to 
 
TOM NODDY'S SECRET. 21 
 
 the task, I myself will take his place. Be sure you do not 
 alarm his lair cousin. 
 
 Aoddi, {aside ) His fair cousin, who's that 1 wonder? 
 
 Onnoiid, (Jaoks from the ivindotv.) Ah, there she is: she is walk- 
 ing in the garden, and alone, I will hasten and speak with her. 
 J3e sure you goto llie boy, and bid him meet me here. \^Exit, c. 
 
 J\''oddy. Things must come to a crisis soon : I wish this cap- 
 tain hud never come; what shall 1 do about the duel — I must 
 tell him all; yes— on second thoughts I'll wiite — yes — now for 
 it. [sits at table, l. — fmts on spectacles.) It's much better to 
 write. If the news irritates him, he then in his fury, can only 
 tear the letter, hut if I were to go and tell him in propria per- 
 sona he might tear me ; so I'll certaiidy write. 
 
 [Ue iirites, and reads the letter. 
 
 "Honoured Captain. — We must in this life be ])repared for 
 any wonderful event that may occur. You once saved the life 
 of a fellow-creature — you brought the individual to my house, 
 and said, 'educate tliis boy !' But it is my duty to intorm you 
 that the little hoy was a little giil ; and to m.tke a long story 
 short, she is the hearer of this letter. I am your humble ser- 
 vant, Tom Noni)Y." \_sea's anddirects the. letter. 
 'I'htre now — liiai's a relief to my mind, and now I'll give it to 
 Gabrielle,and slie shall deliver it. 
 
 \_He rises, and is passing the -windoiv- 
 
 Entir OuMONi), c, vnth foils. 
 
 Ormond. Whixt t/ou still here ! — where's Gabriel ! 
 
 Noddy. Gabrielle i" 
 
 Ormond, Yes, I told you to send him here half an hour ago. 
 
 jYoddi/. Yes — but — but — was he not in ihe garden ? 
 
 Ormond. Oh, no, I have been walking in the garden with his 
 cousin ; he was not there. 
 
 Noddify (aaide.) His cousin ! One mystery follows another 
 so quick that I get bewildered. 1 think it would he belter to 
 go and have my head shaved. 
 
 Ormond. She is a charming grl ! it is high time I and Gabriel 
 shotdd be off", for I could not answer for my heart were I to re- 
 main in her society j but pray go on, and send Gabriel to me 
 immediately. 
 
 Noddy. Yes, certainly, {aside.) I'll go and give her the let- 
 ter, and then she must come and deliver it. [Exit, l. 
 
 Ormond. Ah, he is here— come, my dear Gahriel. 
 
 Enter Gabuiellk, c. 
 
 Gabrielle. I have been looking for you every where ! 
 
22 . TOM NODDY'S SECRET. 
 
 Ormtnd. I've got news for you — the old man is reasonable, 
 and does not insist on your marrying his niece ; so the duel once 
 over, we will be off to London. 
 
 Gabrielle. Indeed! Then jou are inmpatient to go? 
 
 OrmoJid. Yes, for two reasons — you will be far safer, out of 
 Mary's way, at)d 1 too am in danger as long as I remain here. 
 
 Gabrielle. Indeed ! why so f 
 
 Ornvmd. 1 dread your cousin's fascination. 
 
 Ga'irielle, (aside.) Ah ! 1 rejoice at that, [alotid.) Then you 
 think you could l.ke her ? 
 
 Ormo7id. Yes, she is both beautiful and agreeable. 
 
 Gabrielle. Oh, then, why should we go? If you ask her 
 \}ve\.ii\y , perhaps she may marry you. 
 
 Ortnond. No — no — it's not your interest that I should marry. 
 
 Gabrielle. Indeed, but it is though. 
 
 Ormovd. But you are forgetting your duel — courage will not 
 do well — skill is also required ; so take the foil, and we will have 
 a little practice together, [gives foV.) Now for it. 
 
 Gab) idle, {aside.) I've seen people, — so I'll do my best. 
 [They fe7ice ,• cfier a fetv pa'fses Gabrielle cries "You've hurt 
 
 me /" and drops the foil — Ormond throws aside the foil, mid 
 
 supports her, -uho seerr.s ready to faint. 
 
 Ormond. The foil must have been broken ; let me bind up 
 your head, my poor boy. What a little hand for such rough 
 exercise ! 
 
 Gabrielle, {recovering.) Oh, it is nothing. I feel quite well 
 now ! 
 
 Xyrinond. Take courage ! 
 
 Gabrielle, (aside.) I don't know where to find it ! 
 
 Or7)ioncL I shall meet your antagonist: this wound shall be 
 your excuse. 
 
 Gabrielle. Y'ou meet him — oh no ! 
 
 Enter Maut, l. with a letter. 
 
 Mary, ("aside. ) Oh. dear, av hat shall I do ! She is not alone. 
 fgoes to Gabrielle. J How pale you look! — are you ill ! 
 
 Ormond. He does look pale indeed. Go Gabriel, and recover 
 yourself, f aside. J I did not expect to find an effeminate boy. 
 
 Mary. You've hurt your hand. fande.J Are you going? — 
 You must deliver this letter to the captain before you go. 
 
 Ormond. They are whisi)eriiig together: I wish we were off. 
 
 [goes up and sits at table. 
 
 GabrieUe, f aside. J Give the letter yourself. 
 
 Mary. (adJe.) But my uncle said most particularly t/ou were 
 to give it. 
 
TOM NODDY'S SECUE r. 23 
 
 GabrieVe. What can it signify which gives it— you do it at once. 
 1 go, but shall soon return as my cousin. \^Exit. 
 
 jilary. Dear me, she is gone — 1 hale delivering this letter to tlie 
 captain, and what can itsignify who delivers itproNided hegelsit. 
 
 Enter Lnkpkn, r. 
 
 Inkpen. "What Mary here, and witii the officer again ! 
 
 JMattf. Ah, here is' Inkpen, he shall deliver it. Take that 
 letter and give it to the captain. 
 
 Inkpen. /give ii — 1 be your postman ! I give another man a 
 letter from my soul's idol — I-d-o-1 — idol. 
 
 Mart/. Nonsense, you little jealous fool, it's not a letter form 
 me, it's a letter iVoni my uncle. 
 
 Inkpen. Oii, a letter from your uncle ! 
 
 JMary. Yes, look at the direction — you know his hand. I ask 
 you to deliver it, because I do not wish to ^n ak to the captain 
 myself. 
 
 Inkpen. Quite right, 1 will deliver it — go along — there's a 
 good girl. 
 
 ^Marij. I'e sure you gi^e it to him. 
 
 Inkpen. Of course 1 shall. {Exit jMary, ^..) It is her uncle's 
 hand — let me be sure of that. Yes that's his ca[)ital O. [aloud.) 
 Captain ! 
 
 Ormnnd. Well, what do you want? '' 
 
 Inkpen. A letter for you, sir. 
 
 Ormond, {cowing- f'orvai'f/.) A Utter— give it to me [opens 
 ajidreadsit) VViiat is this.'' fiom Mr. iSoddy — lia ! the little 
 boy. What "the little boy," is a '' little girl." aiul the bearer 
 too ! a "girl," ' [looks at Inkpen. 
 
 Inkpen, (aside.) How he does stare at mc ! — in such a very 
 peculiar way. 
 
 Ormond. Is it possible .'' a female — and siich a female ! This 
 then is the individual for whom 1 have interested ni)self for ten 
 years! Ob, a fool I have ntade of myself! 
 
 I?ikpen, [aside.) He seems remarkably angry ! 
 
 Orirond. 1 shall go n)a(I — yet — why should 1 be angry with 
 this poor young woman ? — she, at all events is n'lt lo blame — no 
 —no — it is unjust — jjoor girl her appearance is not in her favor! 
 
 Inkpen, [aside.) What girl is he talking about — iiow singularly 
 he fi.\es his eyes on me ! 
 
 Ormond. Do not be frightened^l am not angry with you — 
 t/oii can't help it — I can feel for a limiilily so natural in one in 
 your situation, liut now tell me frankly, who is that young lad 
 — whence does he come — wban is iiis name ! 
 
 Inkpen. What young lad .-" know mailing about him. 
 
84 TOM NODDY'S SECRET. 
 
 Ormond, No — no — of course you have not been permitted to 
 associate willi yonng men — but you must know who he is. 
 
 Inkpen. I'll be shot if 1 do tl»'ough. 
 
 Orin.'iul, {aside.) How coarsely slie expresses herself! {aloud>) 
 Remember I have been your friend from inlancy, tiie orphan girl- 
 is suiely not uiigraleiul .'' 
 
 Likpfiu And wlio the devil's the orjihan girl ^. 
 ^ flrmond. Hush — you use expressions liille'becoming those lips 
 — since 1 now know the truth let me see you in your own clothes. 
 
 Inkpen. My own clothes — what do you want ? 
 
 Ormond. In your present costume you are naturally awkward 
 — I carmot wish you to be otherwise; hut when you assume the 
 petticoats — 
 
 Inkpc'n. l^etticoals ! 
 
 Ormond. When you stand before me in the dress that befits 
 your sex, 1 doubt not that 1 shall find graces and charms that are 
 nowobscurtd b\ — 
 
 Jnkpen. He's mad — he must he mad ! 
 
 Ormond. Of one thing he assured — if that young man really 
 loves you — 
 
 Inkpen. What ! 
 
 Ormond. If you love him — your union shall not be opposed by 
 me — 1 have taken an interest in your welfare for so many years, 
 thiit I caimot, at all events, become indifferent to you — there- 
 fore, dr;ar girl — 
 
 Inkpen. Dear girl ! Zouiids, I'll beat any man black and blue 
 who turns me into ridicule — I'll call you to account, sir — dear 
 girl, indeed ! 
 
 Enter Maut, l. 
 
 J\1arif. Oil, dear me, what's the matter ? 
 
 Inkpen I gave him the letter — and he has done nothing but 
 insuli m • ever since. 
 
 JManj. Oh dear me, I ought to have given it to him myself 
 as 1 was desired. ' 
 
 Ormond. As you were desired ! Oh, then, 1 see the cause of 
 this confusion — you were told to give me that letter — you then 
 are the little girl, (^aside.) This is at all events a relief to my 
 mind. 
 
 Mary. Ves — I was certainly told to give you that letter. 
 
 Ormond. Then come to my arms. 
 
 Jlarif. Good gracious! 
 
 Inkpen. Halloo ! don't you go near him — Jont dare ! 
 
 Jlfarif. Keep jour distance, sir ! 
 
 Ormond. It must be my adopted child — liow well do I re- 
 member finding you in your little jacket and trousers. 
 
TOM NODDY'S SEGUE I'. 25 
 
 Mary. JMy jacket and trousers ! 
 
 Inkpeii. Htr jacket and trouseis ! what do you mean ? 
 
 Onnonil. Little girl, go away — you know not the interest I 
 take in that dear giil's fate. 
 
 Inkpen. Dear girl's fate ! he was for calling me a dear girl just 
 now. 
 
 Ormond, (kissing Mary.) You have always been accustonied 
 to look to me for support — and I will not desert )0U now — I for- 
 give you for the deception practised upon me. 
 
 Jnkperi. There that's the second soldier that has kissed Mary 
 today ! Miss Noddy — little ones, and big ones— subalterns, and 
 captains Feem ail alike to you ! 
 
 OrmoTid. liealty your intrusion annoys me. 
 
 Inkpen. No doubt of it, and really I wish you at tbe bottom of 
 the sea. 1 come here purposely to meet my rival, and now I 
 pop upon another. If 1 were to meet nil my rivals, I've no doubt 
 1 should find m\self in a crowd ! — a regular military muster. 
 
 JVlwnj. You are very impertinent, sir ! 
 
 Oimond. 1 forbid Mary to receive you in future. 
 
 Inkpen. You forbid ? yon ! come, I like that— what authority 
 liave^/oz/ I should be glad to know i" 
 
 Enter Noddy, l., ivi'h his spectacles pushed i/p on his forehead. 
 
 Noddy. There seems no end to worry — what's the matter now i" 
 
 Inkpen. A preity thing, indeed! Soldiers kissing your niece ! 
 
 Ormond. Nonsense ! she is not his niece. 
 
 Mary. What can he mean now ? 
 
 Noddy. Not my niece — where are my spectacles — has any 
 body seen my spectacles? (' looks for them on ta/r'e.J Captain 
 did you happen to take my — [Alary points to them ) Oh here 
 I hey are, and now let me look at the young woman ! fa (pests 
 spectacles and looks earnest fy at Mary. ) Cai^tain Ormond I am 
 sorry to contradict you, but 1 do positively affirm that this is my 
 niece. 
 
 Ormond. Then explain this, sir — 1 
 
 Inkpen. No explanation here, sir; at the proper hour— in the 
 proper place — with the appointed weapon — seven o'clock — gar- 
 d«^n wall — small sword — come, sir — it oidy wants a few minutes 
 —1 hasten to the spot. [Exit, c. 
 
 Ormond. Thank goodness he's gone ! What did you mean by 
 this letter? you explicitly say in it the bearei — this young lady, 
 is the child I saved. 
 
 Noddy. HIessme! that young lady ! my niece ! oh_.no. This 
 is too much for my poor head — another perplexity. 
 
 JMary. 1 see the error now — 'twas I gave that letter to the 
 captaui. 
 
26 TOM NODDY'S SF-CUET. 
 
 J^oddij.^ Then you've made matters worse. T, u ho thought I 
 was explamin?: every thing ! in two ^vorcls I can make it ail clear 
 
 Onnond. 1 hen the sooner you utter the two m ords the belter 
 
 JSoday. I (lid not intend h>r to deliver that letter. 
 
 Ormond. No ^ — Who then i" 
 
 Noddij. Anotlier jjerson. 
 
 Onnond {takes him by the colhii ) Speak ! who then was to 
 deliver it ? Speak— 
 
 Gakiuelle has listened at centre, in female coshime advances, 
 
 H. C 
 
 Gabrielle. /ouijht to have delivered it. 
 
 Ormond, {u.) You! Oh, do not deceive me ! 
 
 Noddy, (l.) Slie has just come in time to save me from suf- 
 focati»n. 
 
 Gabrielle. ^ Pray pardon me— you ought Ion- since to have 
 been undeceived— l)ut in that, I was not to hlarrie 
 
 Noddy C aside. J Oh, no-she'l! tell him 'twas all my fault. 
 
 ifahrielle. I knew not of it until this morning just before your 
 arrival ; and then, not having courage to meet you, I made mv 
 cousMi take my place. -^ 
 
 Noddy. Uf^v cousin ! she's floundering into another mystery. 
 
 Gabi-idle. At length I venture to appear hcfore you—- 
 
 Onnond. As my adopted child ? 
 
 Gabrielle. Yes ; a daughter— you'll never know what to do 
 With a daughter-always sitting at her work-the eternal snip, 
 snip of her scissors ringing in your ears! 
 
 Onnond. My own words! who could have repeated them to 
 
 Gabridle. A person who heard you utter them, and who has 
 no secrets trom me. 
 
 Ormond. 'Fhink no more of them-I have changed ray mind 
 -when I look on you I feel that I am fortunate in having es- 
 caped the guardianship of a rake and a rue. 
 
 Gabrielle. Mut you forget-" the difficulty of getting a daugh- 
 ter settled in lite, as the saying is." ./bo » 
 
 annond. Alas ! I shall rather sigh over the probability of 
 your being soon snatched from me by some favoured lover ? 
 
 Gabrielle. I hen you never wish to see my cousin again ? 
 
 Ormond. Oh, no-and yet I do wish to see him, for he seem- 
 ed to love me. 
 
 Gabrielle. \ share all his sentiments ; as he feels so I feel, and 
 were we in the same dress, I do not think you would know one 
 iiom the other. 
 
 Ormond. Out you will be as unreserved, will vou eive me 
 your hand, as he would have done ? ' 
 
 III! I ■ vmimtmtmmik 
 
TOM NODDY'S SECRET. 27 
 
 Gahrielle, Cgivintflierivoiindedhand) That will I as frankly. 
 
 Ormond. What ! this wound ! — It is Gabriel ! 
 
 GabrieUe. I teared to lose your affections, and therefore ven- 
 tured to assume the uniform. Gabriel never existed, but Ga- 
 brieUe lives to thank you for your kindntss. 
 
 Ormond. To be my only love — my wife ! [embraces her. 
 
 Enter IxkpeiVj c, ivith a long sivord. 
 
 Inkpen. Pretty soldiers, indeed ! There have 1 been under 
 the garden wall this half hour ! For shame — poltroons', cow- 
 ards ! 
 
 Ormond. Pardon me, 1 quite forgot you altogether ; but there 
 is your antagonist, the lady who boxed your ears. 
 
 GabrieUe. And quite ready to apologize for her flippancy. 
 
 Noddy. 1 do think matters are taking a more favorable turn. 
 You must not be angry, my good usher. 
 
 Inkpen. Angry! no, 1 feel honoured. I don't care if she beats 
 me again with that lilly hand : hntijou are not a young lady in dis- 
 guise too ; are you ? \to Ormond. 
 
 Ormond. Why no — certainly not — but you have a right to ask, 
 as I actually took yon for one of the fair sex ; but be assured 
 that I have no pretensions to Miss Mary. 
 
 Inkpen. Indeed ! W^ell, then, old Tom Noddy — now give 
 me an answer — am I to marry Mary i" 
 
 Noddy. We'll see about it — we'll see about it. I'll not for- 
 get to consider of it by-and-by. I'll tie a knot in my handker- 
 chief, flakes out handkerchief and cj'osses to c. J 'Ihree knots 
 already! I quite forgot what about — I'll tie the fourth, how- 
 ever — and, dear me, my ring changed too ! I wish I could re- 
 collect what it was that I wished to remembei — can any body 
 tell mei' Oh, I recollect, fto audience. J Will you be kind 
 enough to trj^ and remember not to forget to tie knots in all 
 your handkerchiefs that you may not fail to remind your friends 
 how you approved of Tom Noddy's Secret. 
 
 DISPOSITION OF THE CHARACTERS. 
 
 Ormoitd. Gaduiellk. Noddy. Mauy. Inkpen, 
 R. C. L. 
 
LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 
 
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