Turnstile. This is all very delightful; but what will they say at Shoreditch?—twice in one week absent from the House, and at two Tory parties.
Enter GRISKIN, hastily, heated; his hat in his left hand; a pocket-handkerchief in his right.
Griskin. Mr. Turnstile, I’m glad to find you; just called on you, as I came to this quarter to look after a customer—long way from the City—sorry not to hear from you.
Turnstile. Why, really, Mr. Griskin, I am very sorry; but I am not acquainted with the Commander-in-chief. And I must say that I should not know how to press for the {282} contract, knowing that your nephew’s prices are thirty per cent., at least, above the market.
Griskin. That’s being rather nice, I should say, Mr. Turnstile. My nephew is as good a lad as ever stood in shoe-leather; and has six good wotes in Shoreditch,—and, as to myself, Mr. Turnstile, I must say that, after all I did at your election—and in such wery hot weather—I did not expect you’d be so wery particular about a small matter.—Sir, I wish you a good morning.
Turnstile. (Bowing and looking after him.) So this fellow, like the rest of them, thinks that I am to do his jobs, and to neglect my own. And this is your reformed Parliament.
SCENE IX.—The street, near TURNSTILE’S house.
Enter TRIPES and SMOOTH, meeting.
Smooth. (Taking both TRIPES’ hands). My dear Tripes, how d’ye do?—Pray, how is your good lady?—What a jolly party at your house last night! and Mrs. Tripes, I hope, is none the worse for it?
Tripes. Oh dear sir, no! Mrs. Tripes and my daughters were so pleased with your Scotch singing.