Porter. I gannot dell you ze name—pecause zey sing always ze same ting!
A Helpless Man in knickerbockers (drifting in at the door). Here, I say. We engaged rooms here by telegram from Florence. What am I to give these fellows from the station? Combien, you know!
Porter. You gif zem two franc—and zen zey vill gromble. You haf engage roûms? yes. Zat vill pe oal rahit—Your loggage in ze gondola, yes? I haf it taken op.
The H.M. No, it's left behind at Bologna. My friend's gone back for it. And I say, think it will turn up all right?
Porter. Eef you register it, and your vrient is zere, you ged it—yes.
The H.M. Yes, but look here, don't you know? Oughtn't I to make a row—a fuss—about it, or something, eh?
Porter (moving off with subdued contempt). Oh, you can make a foss, yes, if you like—you ged nossing!
Culch. and Podb. (stopping him simultaneously). I say, I want my luggage brought down from No. —— in time for the twelve o'clock—(To each other.) Hallo! are you off too?
Culch. (confused). Er—yes—thought I might as well be getting back.
Podb. Then I—I suppose it's all settled—with Miss T.—you know—eh?