Miss Chillington. Oh! I don't mind going on, if it amuses you.
[Mr. Poffley feels that "children are not so grateful as they used to be for being noticed," and that it is almost time he gave up going to juvenile parties.
After Supper
The Hostess (returning to the drawing-room to find the centre of the floor occupied by a struggling heap of small boys, surrounded by admiring but mystified sisters). Oh! dear me, what are they doing? I'm so afraid my two boys are being too rough, Mrs. Hornblower.
Mrs. Hornblower (one of a row of complacent matrons). Oh! not at all, dear Mrs. Honeybun, they're having such fun. Your Edwin and Arthur are only trying how many boys they can pile on the top of my Tommy.
Mrs. Honeybun. Is that Tommy underneath? Are you sure he's not getting hurt?
Mrs. Horn. Oh! he thoroughly enjoys a romp. He's made himself perfectly hoarse with laughing. Just listen to him!
Mrs. Honey. What a sturdy little fellow he is! And always in such high spirits!
Mrs. Horn (confidentially). He hasn't seemed quite the thing for the last day or two, and I was doubting whether it wouldn't be better to keep him at home to-night, but he begged so hard that I really had to give way.