First Old Lady. I never heard of it. Oh, I see, it's fiancé, my dear. CAROLINE does write so illegibly. (Continuing.) "Um—um,—suppose you know she will be maimed—" (perhaps it is her spine after all—oh, married, to be sure), "very slowly" (is it slowly or shortly, I wonder?), um—um, "very quiet wedding, nobody but dear Mr. WILKINSON and his hatter."
Second O.L. The idea of choosing one's hatter for one's best man! I'm surprised MARIA should allow it!
First O.L. Maria always was peculiar—still, now I come to look, it's more like "brother," which is certainly much more suitable. (Continuing.) "She will have no—no bird's-marks ..." (Now, what does that—should you think that meant "crows-feet"? Oh, no, how stupid of me—bridesmaids, of course!)—"and will go to the otter a plain guy"—(Oh, Caroline really is too....)—"to the altar in plain grey! She has been given such quantities of pea-nuts"—(very odd things to give a girl! Oh, presents! um, um)—"Not settled yet where to go for their hangman"—(the officiating clergyman, I suppose—very flippant way of putting it, I must say! It's meant for honeymoon, though, I see, to be sure!) &c., &c.
Culch. I should like to be at Nuremberg with you. It would be an unspeakable delight to watch the expansion of a fresh young soul in that rich mediæval atmosphere!
Miss T. I guess you'll have opportunities of watching Mr. PODBURY's fresh young soul under those conditions, any way.
Culch. It would not be at all the same thing—even if he—but you do think you're coming to Nuremberg, don't you?
Miss T. Well, it's this way. Poppa don't want to get fooling around any more one-horse towns than he can help, and he's got to be fixed up with the idea that Nuremberg is a prominent European sight before he drops everything to get there.
Culch. I will undertake to interest him in Nuremberg. Fortunately, we are all getting off at Bingen, and going, curiously enough, to the same hotel. (To himself.) Confound that fellow PODBURY, here he is again!
Podb. (to himself, as he advances). If she's carrying on with that fellow, CULCHARD, to provoke me, I'll soon show her how little I—(Aloud.) I say, old man, hope I'm not interrupting you, but I just want to speak to you for a minute, if Miss TROTTER will excuse us. Is there any particular point in going as far as Bingen to-night, eh?
Culch. (resignedly). As much as there is in not going farther than somewhere else, I should have thought.