Miss Chickweed (middle-aged, but skittish). Oh, you naughty men, how long you have kept us waiting! Now, Captain LLOYD, did you shoot really well? Or, were you thinking of—Well, perhaps I oughtn’t to say. See how discreet I am. But do tell me, all of you, exactly how many birds you shot—I do so like to hear about it. You begin, Captain LLOYD. How many did you shoot? (Without waiting for an answer.) I’m sure you must have shot a dozen. Yes, I guess a dozen. And, oh, do give me a feather for my hat! It will be so nice to have a real feather to put in it. And we’ve got such a treat for you. MARY, you tell them. No, I’ll tell them myself. If you’re all very good at lunch, we’re going to walk with you a little afterwards. There!
[But, at this awful prospect, consternation seizes the men. CHALMERS (the host) makes frantic signs to his wife, who (having, somehow, been “squared”) affects not to see. A few desperate attempts are made to express a polite joy; but the lunch languishes, and, darkness closes over the melancholy scene.
A NAVAL INQUIRY.—The Howe and the why?
THE VANISHING RUPEE.—A Cry from India.
A Colonel laments the disappearance of the Rupee, and shows how, whenever he had a step up in his Regiment (each time growing in importance and having more calls on his purse), the Rupee at once took a step down, decreasing in importance and reputation.
| As a “Sub,” free from family
ties, With constant “fivers” from the Pater, The Rupee I thought a goodly size, Though once its value was much greater. | Raised to Captain’s rank, it so
fell out I fell in love with the Station belle,[1] Got spliced; the Rupee, at once, no doubt, In spite, not in love, but value fell. |
