Edwin (determined not to be taken in). Four, you mean.
The Magician. I tell you seeks. Count after me—One, tree, five, seeks. Shtill onli four, you say? Shut dem in your hand—so. Now blow. (Edwin puffs at his fist.) Open your hand, and count. One, two, tree, four, five, seeks, summon, ight, nine, tin, like, vise! Dis Inglisman make money verri moch nice; verri goot Inglisman. Put dem in your hand again, and shut. Hûblo! Now open.
[Edwin opens his fist, to discover in it two small and extremely active serpents, which he rejects in startled dismay.
Angelina (to herself). How nasty of Edwin! He must have felt them inside.
The Magician (to Edwin). Verri nice sna-akes; but where is my monni? (Edwin shakes his head helplessly.) Ah, dis Inglisman too moch plenti cheat. (He seizes Edwin's nose, from which he extracts a shower of shillings.) Aha! Verri goot Inglis nose—hold plenty monni!
Angelina (as Edwin returns to her in triumph). No; please turn your head away, Edwin. I can't look at your nose without thinking of those horrid shillings; and oh, are you quite sure you haven't got any of those horrid snakes up your sleeve? I do wish you hadn't gone!
[So does Edwin.
A Serious Old Lady (as the Magician produces from his throat several yards of coloured yarn, a small china doll, about a gross of tenpenny nails, and a couple of eggs). Clever, my dear? I daresay; but it seems to me a pity that a man who has been given such talents shouldn't turn them to better account!
ELECTION INTELLIGENCE.