Miss C. L. So sorry I made you bring me—don't you think we had better pay, and go home?
Mr. Forr. (to himself). Now for it! (He pulls himself together.) W—waitress, w—what have I to pay, please?
Waitress. Two teas, eightpence; one, two—six cakes you've had, I think, Sir? One-and-eightpence altogether.
Mr. Forr. (with a gasp). Oh! (He fetches up two coins abjectly from his pocket). I—I'm sorry to say that I—I've o—only one shilling and (with a start of intense relief) half-a-sovereign, so (with recovered dignity) I'm afraid I must ask you to give me change. (To Miss C. L.) I—I was only joking about the Burne-Joneses, darling, I'd like to see them awfully—with you. And we can walk home through the Park, or take a cab afterwards, just as you feel about it. Do say you'll come!
[Miss Leon graciously consents, and Mr. Forridge follows her out of the shop with restored equanimity, as Scene closes in.
A BROTHERLY LECTURE.
"What! another Scrape! What an Ass you must be, always getting into Scrapes with Women! Why do you? I never get into Scrapes with Women! Never got into a Scrape with a Woman in my Life!"
Fashionable Intelligence.—The Dowager Lady Crumbie dined out one night last week, when the dinner was so cold that her Ladyship caught a severe chill, and next day the Cook caught it uncommonly hot.