“Mighty well!” said waspish Mrs. Clive. “I did intend you should have painted Mrs. Clive. But after this impertinence—”
“You will continue to do it yourself, ma'am!”
This was Triplet's hour of triumph. His exultation was undignified, and such as is said to precede a fall. He inquired gravely of Mrs. Woffington, whether he had or had not shown a spirit. Whether he had or had not fired into each a parting shot, as they sheered off. To repair which, it might be advisable for them to put into friendly ports.
“Tremendous!” was the reply. “And when Snarl and Soaper sit on your next play, they won't forget the lesson you have given them.”
“I'll be sworn they won't!” chuckled Triplet. But, reconsidering her words, he looked blank, and muttered: “Then perhaps it would have been more prudent to let them alone!”
“Incalculably more prudent!” was the reply.
“Then why did you set me on, madam?” said Triplet, reproachfully.
“Because I wanted amusement, and my head ached,” was the cool answer, somewhat languidly given.
“I defy the coxcombs!” cried Triplet, with reviving spirit. “But real criticism I respect, honor, and bow to. Such as yours, madam; or such as that sweet lady's at Mr. Vane's would have been; or, in fact, anybody's who appreciates me. Oh, madam, I wanted to ask you, was it not strange your not being at Mr. Vane's, after all, to-day?”
“I was at Mr. Vane's, Triplet.”