Col. S. Can't say, I'm sure—no business of mine, you know.
Mr. C. S. There I venture to think you're wrong, Sir. It's the business of everybody—the duty, I may say—to see that the best blood of the nation is not——(Col. S. turns into the hotel; Mr. C. S. sits down near Culch.)—Remarkably superior set of visitors staying here, Sir! My chief objection to travel always is, that it brings you in contact with parties you wouldn't think of associating with at home. I was making that same remark to a very pleasant little fellow I met on the steamer—er—Lord Uppersole, I think it was—and he entirely concurred. Your friend made us acquainted.—(Podbury comes out of the hotel.)—Ah, here is your friend,—(To Podb.)—Seen his Lordship about lately, Sir?—Lord Uppersole I mean, of course!
Podb. Uppersole? No—he's over at Cadenabbia, I believe.
Mr. C. S. A highly agreeable spot to stay at. Indeed, I've some idea myself of——Exceedingly pleasant person his Lordship—so affable, so completely the gentleman!
Podb. Oh, he's affable enough—for a boot-maker. I always give him a title when I see him, for the joke of the thing—he likes it.
Mr. C. S. He may, Sir. I consider a title is not a thing to be treated in that light manner. It—it was an unpardonable liberty to force me into the society of that class of person—unpardonable, Sir!
[He goes.
Podb. Didn't take much forcing, after he once heard me call him "Lord Uppersole"! Where are all the others, eh? Thought we were going up to the Villa Serbelloni this afternoon.
Culch. I—er—have not been consulted. Are they—er—all going?
[With a shade of anxiety.