MRS. G. Vare I did attend, as vas appoint.
GREEN. Yes, but instead of inviting me to take a seat beside you, I was lifted by two fellows, whose muscular developments forbade any opposition on my part, into the dickey of the carriage—the postillion cracked his whip, away we started—and that is all I know about the affair.
MRS. G. Ha, ha! I fear I have trespass on your complaisance, your vat you call spooney disposition—dat is, your good nature.
GREEN. Countess, my good nature is public property like Kennington Common—you can’t trespass on it. Is there any other way I can be serviceable to you?
MRS. G. Oui, dere is one oder little ting; vil you permit me, vile in dis maison, to be apellez your femme, your best half of de vorst—to be called Madame Grinfeench?
GREEN. Madame:—in English that means Missus—Mrs. Greenfinch!
MRS. G. Oui. I have particulere reason for my request.
GREEN. Hem! hem! Perhaps, Countess, you are not aware that there’s a previous Mrs. Greenfinch at this moment on the British shores; a splendid woman, though I say it, who sits like a pensive dove mourning for her absent mate at Peckham Rye.
MRS. G. (aside) There’s some good in him still. Oh dat is no obelisk in de vay. I go to-morrow in de packey bote, and sall only be your little rib for a little time.
GREEN. Why if I thought it was only for a little time I might. (aside) She’s a lovely creature no doubt, and as Mrs. G. can never know anything of my delinquency—pooh! what’s there to be afraid of? (to her) Well, Countess, I can refuse nothing to your sex—consider yourself as the temporary Mrs. Greenfinch.