The I. A. 'Ed of Ariadne.
Fiancée (slightly surprised). What!—not young Adney down our street? I didn't know as he'd been took in stone.
The I. A. How do you suppose they'd 'ave young Adney in among this lot—why, that's antique!
Fiancée. Well, I was thinking it looked more like a female. But if it's meant for old Mr. Teak the shipbuilder's daughter, it flatters her up considerable; and, besides, I always understood as her name was Betsy.
The I. A. No, no; what a girl you are for getting things wrong! that 'ed was cut out years and years ago!
Fiancée. Well, she's gone off since, that's all; but I wonder at old Mr. Teak letting it go out of the family, instead of putting it on his mantelpiece along with the lustres, and the two chiny dogs.
The A. I. (with ungallant candour). 'Ark at you! Why you 'ain't much more sense nor a chiny dog yourself!
Moralizing Matron (before the Venus of Ostia). And to think of the poor ignorant Greeks worshipping a shameless hussey like that! It's a pity they hadn't some one to teach them more respectable notions! Well, well! it ought to make us thankful we don't live in those benighted times, that it ought!
A Connoisseur (after staring at a colossal Greek lion). A lion, eh? Well, it's another proof to my mind that the ancients hadn't got very far in the statuary line. Now, if you want to see a stone lion done true to Nature, you've only to walk any day along the Euston Road.
A Practical Man. I dessay it's a fine collection, enough, but it's a pity the things ain't more perfect. I should ha' thought, with so many odds and ends and rubbish lying about as is no use to nobody at present they might ha' used it up in mending some that only requires a 'arm 'ere or a leg there, or a 'ed and what not, to make 'em as good as ever. But ketch them (he means the Officials) taking any extra trouble if they can help it!