[In pursuance of which virtuous resolve, she talks about nothing else for the remainder of the day, until the unfortunate Maria wishes fervently that balloons had never been invented.
IN THE BUILDING.
An admiring group has collected before an enormous pin-cushion in the form of a fat star, and about the size of a Church-hassock.
First Soldier (to his Companion). Lot 'o work in that, yer know!
Second Soldier. Yes. (Thoughtfully.) Not but what—(becoming critical)—if I'd been doin' it myself, I should ha' chose pins with smaller 'eds on 'em.
First S. (regarding this as presumptuous). You may depend on it the man who made that 'ad his reasons for choosing the pins he did—but there's no pleasing some parties!
Second S. (apologetically). Well, I ain't denying the Art in it, am I?
First Woman. I do call that 'andsome, Sarah. See, there's a star, and two 'arps, and a crownd, and I don't know what all—and all done in pins and beads! "Made by Bandsman Brown," too! [Reading placard.
Second W. Soldiers is that clever with their 'ands. Four pounds seems a deal to ask for it, though.
First W. But look at the weeks it must ha' took him to do! (Reading.) "Containing between ten and eleven thousand pins and beads, and a hundred and ninety-eight pieces of coloured cloth!" Why, the pins alone must ha' cost a deal of money.