"I've year'd tell that 'er vather be related to zum lord 'oo 'elped kill some ol' parson, yers an' yers gone by! Gracie! now wat be th' ol' man's name now that taicher tol 'ee 'bout?"
"Tracey!"
"Iss, iss! I've year'd tell 'e be buried zumwher yer 'bouts, an' th' ol' bridegroom be proper zet to be married down yer!"
"After th' weddin'," continued Mrs. Ovey, supplying information, "all th' vine volks be goin' on to Lay Hotel vur summat t' ate. Arter that they tu be goin' vor 'oneymun over ta 'ardland in li'le ol' 'ouze. Poor li'le lady, an' th' ouze they be goin' to be so small ther b'ain't no room vur zervants nor nothin'!"
"My now, Mrs. Ovey, but that young feller be proper 'ansom, b'ain't 'e now? I reckon it be a pity that 'er 'adn't zeen 'im befor 'er vixed up with old 'un. I remember when Bill was courtin' me, 'ow——"
And so on and so forth, whilst inside the "vine wimen" from London Town made comments after their own kind.
"Some women have all the luck," remarked an enamelled dame, whose bridge and dressmakers' debts were on a par with those of her three daughters who had safely, oh! quite, but most unsuccessfully survived many seasons, "I wonder how Susie managed it? Gawky young miss, isn't she? Just out of school. Um—um—um!"
"Really! is she! Strange in her manner—you don't mean it—oh! of course not, dearest! Fancy! hates society, swims at night, walks ten miles a day—yes, of course! not quite cosmos, what d'you call it—um—um—um?"
"Miraud Soeurs, I believe—yes—did you like that draped effect? I suppose he did—poor old Susie's up to her eyes in debt! Didn't the happy bride look ghastly? Wonder how she came by the accident—and what it was—and means—um—um—um!"
"Yes! very, in a bizarre way. I'm damned sorry for her. Did you hear about the girl in the shop basement?—heavy! I should think so—put the screw on what?—hear the bride's settlement is simply enormous—um—um—um!"