Culch. (jerking away with temper). Now, look here, PODBURY. I'm not in the mood for any more of your foolery—
Podb. (humbly). All right, old boy. I wouldn't bother you, only Miss PRENDERGAST wants a figure for her foreground, and I said I'd ask you if you'd keep just as you are for a few minutes. Do you mind?
Culch. (to himself). Afraid she's gone too far—thinks she'll smooth me down! Upon my word, it would serve her right to—but no, I won't be petty. (Aloud.) Pray tell Miss PRENDERGAST that I have no immediate intention of altering my position.
Podb. Thanks awfully, old chap. I knew you'd oblige.
Culch. (incisively). I am obliging Miss PRENDERGAST, and her only. (Raising his voice, without turning his head.) Would you prefer me to face you, Miss PRENDERGAST?
Miss P. (in tremulous tones). N—no, thank you. It—it's so much more n—natural, don't you know, for you to be l—looking at the view.
Culch. As you please. (To himself.) Can't meet my eye. Good! I shall go on treating her distantly for a little. I wonder if I look indifferent enough from behind? Shall I cross one foot? Better not—she may have begun sketching me. If she imagines I'm susceptible to feminine flattery of this palpable kind, she'll—how her voice shook, though, when she spoke. Poor girl, she's afraid she offended me by laughing—and I did think she had more sense than to—but I mustn't be too hard on her. I'm afraid she's already beginning to think too much of—and with my peculiar position with Miss TROTTER—(MAUD, that is)—not that there's anything definite at present, still—(Aloud.) Ahem, Miss PRENDERGAST—am I standing as you wish? (To himself.) She doesn't answer—too absorbed, and I can't hear that idiot—found he hasn't scored so much after all, and gone off in a huff, I expect. So much the better! What a time she is over this, and how quiet she keeps! I wish I knew whether it was coquetry or—shall I turn round and see? No, I must be perfectly indifferent. And she did laugh at me. I distinctly saw her. Still, if she's sorry, this would be an excellent opportunity for—(Aloud.) Miss PRENDERGAST! (No reply—louder.) May I take it that you regret having been betrayed into momentary approbation of a miserable piece of flippancy? If so, let me assure you—(Turns round—to discover that he is addressing two little flaxen-haired girls in speckled pinafores, who are regarding him open-mouthed. Miss PRENDERGAST and PODBURY have disappeared.) PODBURY again! He must have planned this—with her! It is too much. I have done—yes—done with the pair of them! [Strides off in bitter indignation.
SCHOOL-BOY'S FIRST EXPERIENCE OF SMOKING.—One sickarette,—and he never could do another. O si sic omnes!