The Surburban L. Lucy, this is rather nice. "Breakfasts for the Porth!" (Pondering.) I think there must be a mistake in the Catalogue—I don't see any breakfast things—they're cleaning fish, and what's a "Porth!" Would you mark that—or not?
Her Comp. Oh, I think so.
The S. L. I don't know. I've marked such a quantity already and the lead won't hold out much longer. Oh, it's by Hook, R. A. Then I suppose it's sure to be all right. I've marked it, dear.
Duet by Two Dreadfully Severe Young Ladies, who paint a little on China. Oh, my dear, look at that. Did you ever see such a thing? Isn't it too perfectly awful? And there's a thing! Do come and look at this horror over here. A "Study," indeed. I should just think it was! Oh, Maggie, don't be so satirical, or I shall die! No, but do just see this—isn't it killing? They get worse and worse every year, I declare!
[And so on.
In Gallery No. V.
(Two Prosaic Persons come upon a little picture, by Mr. Swan, of a boy lying on a rock, piping to fishes.)
First P. P. That's a rum thing!
Second P. P. Yes, I wasn't aware myself that fishes were so partial to music.
First P. P. They may be—out there—(perceiving that the boy is unclad)—but it's peculiar altogether—they look like herrings to me.