First Girl. We'll show him others have their pride as well as him. [They disappear in the crowd.
Mr. Spiffing (repassing a few minutes later, with one of the young Ladies on each arm). Well, there, say no more about it—so long as it wasn't at Me, I don't mind! [They pass on.
A Wheezy Matron (in a shawl). She was a prettier byby in the fice than any o' the others—sech a lydylike byby she was—we never 'ad no bother with her! and never, as long as I live, shall I forgit her Grandpa's words when he saw her settin' up in her 'igh cheer at tea, with her little cheeks a marsk o' marmalade. "LOUISER JYNE," he sez, "you mark my words—she's the on'y reelly nice byby you ever 'ad, or will ave!"
Her Comp. An' he wasn't given to compliments in a general way, neither, was he?
Anxious Mother. I can't make him out. Sometimes I think he means something, and yet,—Every morning we've been here, he's come up to her on the Pier, and brought her a carnation inside of his 'at.
Her Confidante. Then depend upon it, my dear, he has intentions. I should say so, certingly!
The Mother. Ah, but CARRIE tells me she's dropped her glove, accidental-like, over and over again, and he's always picked it up,—and handed it back to her. I reelly don't know what to think!
The Confidante. Well, I wouldn't lose heart—with the moon drawin' on to the full, as it is!
A Seaside Siren (conscious of a dazzling complexion—to a suburban Ulysses). I wish I could get brown—I think it's so awfully becoming—but I never can!
Ulysses. Some people are like that. On'y turn red, you know, specially the nose—catches 'em there, y'know!