MRS. DALE (looking up languidly).—“Well, my love?”
MISS JEMIMA.—“Will you believe it, I say, when I returned to Cheltenham, only three months afterwards, Miss Smilecox had seduced his affections from me, and the ungrateful creature did not even know me again? A pug, too—yet people say pugs are faithful! I am sure they ought to be, nasty things! I have never had a gentleman dog since,—they are all alike, believe me, heartless, selfish creatures.”
MRS. DALE.—“Pugs? I dare say they are!”
MISS JEMIMA (with spirit).-“MEN!—I told you it was a gentleman dog!”
MRS. DALE (apologetically).—“True, my love, but the whole thing was so mixed up!”
MISS JEMIMA.—“You saw that cold-blooded case of Breach of Promise of Marriage in the papers,—an old wretch, too, of sixty-four. No age makes them a bit better. And when one thinks that the end of all flesh is approaching, and that—”
MRS. DALE (quickly, for she prefers Miss Jemima’s other hobby to that black one upon which she is preparing to precede the bier of the universe).—“Yes, my love, we’ll avoid that subject, if you please. Mr. Dale has his own opinions, and it becomes me, you know, as a parson’s wife” (said smilingly: Mrs. Dale has as pretty a dimple as any of Miss Jemima’s, and makes more of that one than Miss Jemima of three), “to agree with him,—that is, in theology.”
MISS JEMIMA (earnestly).—“But the thing is so clear, if you will but look into—”
MRS. DALE (putting her hand on Miss Jemima’s lips playfully).—“Not a word more. Pray, what do you think of the squire’s tenant at the Casino, Signor Riccabocca? An interesting creature, is he not?”
MISS JEMIMA.—“Interesting! not to me. Interesting? Why is he interesting?”