A Testy Man (to Miss Meekin). Look here, this is simply scandalous! I've brought it to show you. My little girl in the country sent home some silkworms to her sister in a light paper-box. They were marked "fragile, with care"—and this is how they arrived! (Thrusts a crushed packet, unpleasantly stained, upon Miss Meekin's notice.) That's your stamping, that is!
Miss Meekin. I'm sure I'm very sorry.
Testy M. Sorry! What's the use of that? The silkworms are dead! dead through culpable negligence on the part of someone in this office—and if you'll give me a sheet of paper, I'll let the Postmaster-General know what I think of you here. (Miss Meekin supplies him with paper and an envelope; he dashes down a strong-worded screed with a gold pencil-case.) There, you'll hear more of that—I'll bring these silkworms home to somebody, if I have to do it through Parliament! good-day to you.
Miss Meekin (as he is opening the door). Sir, one moment!
Testy Man. No, I'll listen to no apologies—disgraceful, disgraceful!
Miss Meekin (a little roused). I wasn't going to apologise—only to tell you you've left your pencil-case on the counter.
Testy Man. Oh—er—have I? much obliged. (Disarmed.) And you may give me back that letter—I'll think over it!
Miss Goodchild (to Mrs. Quiverful—a regular client). Oh, Mrs. Quiverful, do you know, you never put any stamp on that letter to Wurra-Gurra? I saw it was in your handwriting.
Mrs. Quiverful. Dear, dear me! how careless—and my boy expecting to hear as usual! So you couldn't send it?
Miss G. Oh, yes, it was sent—I thought you wouldn't like to miss the Mail.