Male P. (as they enter Callander and pass a trim villa). There, that's Mr. Figgis's place.
His Comp. What—that? Why, it's quite a bee-yutiful place, with green Venetians, and a conservatory, and a croaky lawn, and everything! Fancy all that belonging to him! It's well to be a grocer—in these parts, seemingly!
Male P. Ah, we ought to come up and start business here; it 'ud be better than being in the Caledonian Road!
[They meditate for the remainder of the journey upon the caprices of Fortune with regard to grocery profits in Caledonia and the Caledonian Road respectively.
THE WHEEL OF FATE.
(A Fragment of an Old Romance, slightly Modernised.)
Chapter XXI.
"Grammercy!" quoth the Baron d'Agincourt, as he rolled off his bicycle into a potato-bed; "'tis a full-mettled steed! Methinks those varlets have fed him with overmuch oil of late, so restive is he become. And, lack-a-day! My doublet is besmirched with mire! Thou smilest, I see, Agatha. There is but scant reason for merriment, shameless girl!"
"Nay," replied the beauteous Lady Agatha, as with exquisite skill she rode her dainty steed (a thorough-bred Coventry) up and down the terrace, "'twas not at thy mishap, dear father! Of a truth thou must be sorely bruised. Was not that thy seventh fall this afternoon? If I smile, 'tis but that I am happy."