George. Singularly!
Lord F. What I object to in this country is the way one’s inferiors joke. It’s such bad form.
Rose (horrified). Surely they haven’t tried to joke you?
Lord F. Yes. Now to-day, coming up here, I took my luggage to the station, and got my brasses, but forgot your direction that it must be re-labelled at the Junction, so they wer’n’t put off there. I spoke to the guard, and he was so vastly obliging in promising to have them sent back that I gave him a deem.
Omnes. A what?
Lord F. A deem—your small coin that’s almost as much as our sixpence, don’t you know.
Omnes. Oh, yes!
Lord F. Well, the fellow looked at it, and then he smiled, and said loud enough for the whole car to hear: “My dear John Bull, don’t you sling your wealth about in this prodigal way. You take it home, and put it out at compound interest, and some day you’ll buy out Gould or Rockefeller.”
Helen. How shockingly rude! What did you do?
Lord F. I told him if he didn’t behave himself, I’d give him in charge. (Men all laugh.) Now, is that another of your American jokes?