Mrs. Racket. Why, took the offer.
Flut. Sir, I would oblige you, but I buy this picture to place in the nursery: the children have already got Whittington and his Cat; 'tis just this size, and they'll make good companions.
Mrs. Rack. Ha! ha! ha! Well, I protest that's just the way now—the Nabobs and their wives outbid one at every sale, and the creatures have no more taste——
Vill. There again! You forget this story is told by Flutter, who always remembers every thing but the circumstances and the person he talks about:—'twas Ingot who offer'd a rouleau for the bargain, and Sir Jeremy Jingle who made the reply.
Flut. Egad, I believe you are right.—Well, the story is as good one way as t'other, you know. Good morning. I am going to Mrs. Crotchet's concert, and in my way back shall make my bow at Sir George's. (Going.)
Vill. I'll venture every figure in your taylor's bill, you make some blunder there.
Flut. (turning back) Done! My taylor's bill has not been paid these two years; and I'll open my mouth with as much care as Mrs. Bridget Button, who wears cork plumpers in each cheek, and never hazards more than six words for fear of shewing them.
[Exit Flutter.
Mrs. Rack. 'Tis a good-natur'd insignificant creature! let in every where, and cared for no where.—There's Miss Hardy return'd from Lincoln's-Inn:—she seems rather chagrin'd.
Vill. Then I leave you to your communications.