"You seem all monstrous merry and mightily at Home with one another," says my Father, who evidently had, as was but too common, taken a little too much; "I almost seem like an Interloper in my own House; however, I don't care if I have a cheerful Glass with you to improve our Acquaintance. Hallo! where's my Chair gone? I had like to have sat down upon the Floor."
"Here, Sir," said Gatty, hastily rising.
"Here, Sir? and who are you, Madam? I don't remember ever to have seen your Face before; not an ugly one, neither! Pray, are you Mrs. Paul Caryl?"
"Oh no, Sir!"
"Who then? Mrs. ... Mrs. ... I shall forget my own Name next; hum! Hallo! Why, where are my Senses?"
Mr. Caryl and Mr. Fenwick looked at him in Amazement; while we knew what he missed, well enough.
"Where are they?" reiterated he, raising his Voice very loud, and stamping the Floor. "Woman!" addressing my Mother, "where, I say, are my Five Senses?"
"Dear Mr. Honeywood, they're safe in the China Cupboard," began my Mother, which set Mr. Caryl off in an inextinguishable Fit of Laughter.
"Are these your Manners, Sir?" cries my Father, fiercely turning upon him.