Oft would he ope the lid, and oft immerge
His fingers,”
for the purpose of exciting an agreeable titillation in a very sharp nose, that blushed like a corn-poppy.
“A glass of cold water, warm without sugar, Lady Teazle? or a strip of white satin and bitters, my Belvidera? A pint of half-and-half in the pewter, my Calista? or a tumbler of cold without, Mrs. Longbow?”
“D'ye think, Mr. Bigstick, I'm a rhinoscheros, a river-oss, or a crocodile? Order me a pot of hot coffee and buttered toast; and mind, Mr. Bigstick, let it be buttered on both sides.”
This dialogue was carried on between the long lean man and an invisible sharp-voiced personage in the tea-kettle.
“Coffee and toast for the tea-kettle,” shouted the waiter.
“How many?” demanded mine host.
“Four. Lady Teaser, Belvideary, Miss Cannister, and Mrs. Longbow.”
“Mort de ma vie!” ejaculated the long lean man. “For one!—In the Tumbletuzzy all these characters are combined. And, garçon, bring me a basin of tea and a—biscuit.”