There! there! there!
Sir LUKE.
I own this is the utmost malice of fortune—but let me finish the letter.—"This calamity, dear Circuit, is of such a nature as baffles all advice, or interposition of friends, I shall therefore leave you to time, and your own good understanding." [pretty and sensible.]—"yours," &c.—But let us see, what says the postscript—[reads.] "Perhaps it may give you some comfort to know that you had sixteen almonds, and but two raisins against you."
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
But two!
Sir LUKE.
No more.
Mrs. CIRCUIT.
This must be Kitty Cribbage's doing, she has been tattling about the paltry trifle I owe her.
Sir LUKE.