That was precisely the question which troubled Bulgin.
"W-e-l-l Gentle-m-e-n," he said, not exactly knowing what else to say.
To which they all responded with a singular unanimity,—"W-e-l-l D-o-c-t-o-r!"
"Did not I,—did not I,—tell,—tell you not to come in here?" sobbed the nephew,—that is Julia.
Mr. Watkins arose and passed his hand through his stiff gray hair,—
"Allow me to compliment you upon the becoming character of your costume!" and sat down again.
Then Mr. Potts, whose bald head shone in the light as he rose,—
"And allow me to congratulate you upon the character of this house, and especially the elegant seclusion of this chamber." And Mr. Potts sat down.
Mr. Burns' lean form next ascended, and his nose seemed to increase in size, as he projected it in a low bow,—
"And allow me,—" what a deep voice! "to congratulate you upon the society of your companion, who becomes her male attire exceedingly." And Mr. Burns gravely resumed his seat.