A Niece. Just one moment, Auntie, dear; do look and see what No. 295 is!
Her Aunt (with a Catalogue—and a conscience). Two hundred and ninety-five! Before we have even seen No. 1? No, my dear, no. Let us take things in their proper order—or not at all. (Perambulates the galleries for some minutes, refraining religiously from looking at anything but the numbers.) Ah, here it is—Number One! Now, ETHEL, I'm ready to tell you anything you please!
First Matter-of-Fact Person. Ah, here's another of the funny ones! [Is suddenly seized with depression.
Second M.-of-F.P. Y-yes. (Examines it gloomily.) What's it all about?
First M.-of-F.P. (blankly). Oh, well, it's a Pastel—I don't suppose it's meant to be about anything in particular, you know.
The Conscientious Aunt (before No. 129). "The Sprigged Frock"? Yes, that must be the one. I suppose those are meant for sprigs—but I can't make out the pattern. She might have made her hair a little tidier—such a bush! and I never do think blue and green go well together, myself.
[They come to a portrait of a charming lady in grey, by Mr. SOLOMON.
The Niece (with a sense of being on firm ground at last). Why, it's ELLEN TERRY! See if it isn't, Auntie.
The C.A. (referring to Catalogue).
"The leaves of Memory seemed to