San. Eng. Bloch. (leans over verandah railings). They say, "He is still shouldering the little musket!"
Alfred (almost paralysed). The little——it is Mopsëman! I taught him to do it so thoroughly! (With outstretched arms.) He cannot shoulder a musket and swim too! (Glancing darkly at Spreta.) Woman, you have your wish! Henceforth my life will be one long rankle of remorse!
[Sinks down in the armchair.
Mopsa (with an affectionate expression in her eyes). Not alone, Alfred! We will rankle together—just you and I.
Alfred (rises, half distracted). Oh, my gracious goodness!
[He rushes down into the garden
THE BATTLE OF EVESHAM.
Who won it?
Dear Sir,—The answer to this question is simplicity itself—my League did it. We got the Labourers Allotments and we gained our quid pro quo (this phrase has kindly been supplied by a distinguished patron of ours) in votes. All efforts to prove that Impey's the friend, not Long, were in vain. But the credit that it was not so is ours.