MR. WAIFE.—“Perhaps you will see if those two gentlemen are coming.”
SOPHY.—“Do, do! and if they will give us three pounds!”
COBBLER (triumphantly).—“Then you do care to know the future, after all?”
SOPHY.—“Yes, so far as that goes; but don’t look any further, pray.”
COBBLER (intent upon the ball, and speaking slowly, and in jerks).—“A mist now. Ha! an arm with a besom—sweeps all before it.”
SOPHY (frightened).—“Send it away, please.”
COBBLER—“It is gone. Ha! there’s Rugge,—looks very angry,—savage, indeed.”
WAIFE.—“Good sign that! proceed.”
COBBLER.—“Shakes his fist; gone. Ha! a young man, boyish, dark hair.”
SOPHY (clapping her hands).—“That is the young gentleman—the very young one, I mean—with the kind eyes; is he coming?—is he, is he?”