A Matron (to her friend, as they approach the natives at work). Everything seems for sale here, my dear. Just the place to get a nice wedding-present for dear Emily. I want to give her something Indian, as she will be going out there so soon. What are they doing in here? oh, glass-blowing!... See, Jane, this one is making glass bangles.... Well, no, Emily would think it rather shabby if I gave her a pair of those. I might get one apiece for Cook and Phœbe—servants are always so grateful for any little attention of that sort—though I shouldn't like to encourage a taste for finery; well, it will do very well when we come back.... Perhaps one of those brass dinner-gongs—there's a large one, I see, marked seven-and-sixpence—but I'd rather give her something quieter—something she'd value for its own sake.... Now one of those chased silver bowls—twenty-five-and-nine-pence? Well, it seems a little——and though I was always very fond of her mother, Emily was never——I must think over it.... She might like a set of beetle-wing mats—only they're not likely to entertain much.... How would one of these embroidered tablecloths—eh? oh, I'm sure I've seen them much cheaper at Liberty's; and besides——(After a prolonged inspection of various articles at various stalls.) After all, I shall be going to Tunbridge Wells next week. I think I'll wait. I might see something there I liked better, you know!
"Stands smiling feebly"
A Wife (to her husband, who is examining the stock of a native shoemaker with interest). No, Charles. I put up with a great deal for the sake of your society of an evening; but if you imagine I am going to have you sitting opposite me with your feet in a pair of slippers separated into two horrid toes, you make a great mistake! Put the dreadful things down and come away.
Mr. McPairtan (from the North, to his small nephew). Eh, Robbie, my man, I'm thinking your mither wouldna' just approve o' my takkin' ye to sic a perfairmance as yon Burrmese dancing-women.... Nay, nay, laddie, there's deceitfulness eneugh in the naitural man withoot needing to lairn ony mair o't fro' these puir juggling Indian bodies wi' their snake-chairmin' an' sic godless doins!... Ride on the elephant? Havers! Ye can do that fine in the Zooloagical Gairdens.... 'Twould be just sinful extrawvagance in me to be throwing away guid siller wi' so mony bonny sichts to be seen for naething.
Mr. Gourmay (who is dying for his dinner, to his pretty cousins, who cannot be got past the Indian craftsmen). Yes, yes, very interesting, and all that; but we can see it just as well if we come back later, you know.
His Cousin Belle. But they may have stopped by then. I must just see him finish the pattern; it's too fascinating!
Mr. Gourm. I—er—don't want to hurry you, you know, only, you see, if we don't look sharp, we shan't be in time to secure an outside table at the Restaurant. Much jollier dining in the open air.
His Cousin Imogen. Oh, it's too hot to think of food. I'm not in the least hungry—are you, Belle?
Belle. No; I'd ever so much rather see the Burmese dancers and the Indian conjurors. I don't want to waste the best part of the evening over dinner; we might have some of that nice Indian tea and a piece of cake by-and-by, perhaps, if there's time.