“AWFUL” TASTE IN 1875!
Scene—A Ball Room. Edwin leads out Angelina as arranged earlier in the evening, to dance a promised “square.” They walk through the first figure. A pause.
Edwin. Been to the Academy, of course?
Angelina. O yes. Been several times. So fond of Miss Thompson’s picture, you know. I like the group of the dying soldier and the boy laughing at having killed a Frenchman, awfully. So awfully clever, you know.
Edwin. O awfully! The wounds are so awfully true to nature, you know. Do we begin?
They walk through the second figure. A pause.
Edwin. Been to see Salvini?
Angelina. Of course. Isn’t he awfully nice? I think he is perfectly charming in Othello. His face quite reminds me, in the Jealousy Scene, of dear Mr. Irving in the last Act of The Bells. His suicide at the end of the piece, you know, is really quite too awfully clever. Isn’t it?
Edwin. You mean the throat-cutting affair, eh? When he falls on his back and dies quivering, eh? O yes, awfully clever. It’s our turn, I think.
They walk through the third figure. A pause.
Edwin. Read any novels lately?
Angelina. Just read an awfully nice book, “The Law and the Lady.” One of the heroes is a monstrosity without legs, Miserrimus Dexter, don’t you know. Awfully clever.
Edwin. O yes. Read the book myself. Clever notion, the idiotic man-woman, eh, wasn’t it?
Angelina. O yes, awfully good. I think they are waiting for us.
They walk through the fourth figure. Promenade.
Edwin. Did you go to Stafford House to see the coffins?
Angelina. O yes, we all went—Mamma, Papa, and the children, don’t you know. Met everybody there. Such an awful crush.
Edwin. Like the coffins?
Angelina. O so much. They looked awfully nice. So deliciously cool, don’t you know.
Edwin. Cool! You like that kind of thing cool, eh?
Angelina. Yes, I think so.
Edwin. Ah, then you must be against cremation?
Angelina (hesitating). Well—yes—perhaps. (After consideration.) Yes, I think so. Yes, I think I like the baskets best.
[Fans herself.
Edwin. À propos—may I get you an ice?
Angelina. O, thanks so much. Yes, Grandpapa was awfully delighted with the wicker coffins, and has ordered a couple lined with charcoal, for himself and Grandmamma. I am going to the shop to-morrow to choose them for him. Thanks—strawberry, please.
[They retire into the Refreshment-room, with a view to getting cool.
“Noblesse Oblige.”—Old Friend. “Hullo, Dick? How are you? I wish you’d come and dine with me to-night. But now you’re a lord, I suppose I mustn’t call you Dick any longer, or even ask you to dinner?”
Noble Earl (who has just come into his title). “Lord be blowed! Lend me a fiver, and you may call me what you like—and I’ll dine with you into the bargain!”
Little Dobbs (who is a good dancer, but has let his partner down with a crash). “That was my very first accident. Will you give me a dance?”
She (majestically). “Certainly, with pleasure. I never let a man down in my life!”
He (who has failed to catch his companion’s name, and wishes to find it out indirectly). “By the way, how do you spell your name?”
NEVER CARRY YOUR GLOVES IN YOUR HAT
Mr. Poffington flatters himself he is creating a sensation.
(Perhaps he is.)
Our Whist Party.—Major MacFlush (at close of rubber, to partner). “Didn’t ye see me call for trumps?”
Partner (a new hand). “You may have called, major, but I never heard you!”
THE HEIGHT OF EXCLUSIVENESS
She. “I believe you know my neighbours, the Chesterfield Browns?”
He. “Haw—well—a—I go to the house, don’tcherknow, and dine with ’em occasionally, and all that—but I’m not on speaking terms with ’em!”
DRAWING-ROOM INANITIES
He. “I live in Hill Street. Where do you live?”
She. “I live in Hill Street, too.”
He (greatly delighted to find they have something in common). “Really!” (After a moment’s hesitation.) “Any particular number?”