"My own face made very long," said Sophy,—"as long as that—," stretching out her hands.
The Cobbler shook his head dolefully, and screwing up one eye, applied the other to the mystic ball.
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."