Mary. “I don’t know, Master Pop——”
Pop. “I will have it, I say. If you don’t, I’ll smash everything, I will.”
Cis. “Oh, you naughty, rude boy!”
Pop. “Hold your tongue, stupid! I will have it, I say.”
Mrs. P. “Do humour him, Mary, please. And I’m sure my dear children at home will be better for it.”
Pop. “There’s your basket. Now put this cake in, and this bit of butter, and this sugar on the top of the butter. Hurray! hurray! Oh, what jolly fun! Here’s some cake—no, I think I’ll keep that; and, Mrs. Prior, tell Gus, and Fanny, and Fred, I sent it to ’em, and they shall never want for anything, as long as Frederick Popham Baker Lovel, Esquire, can give it them. Did Gus like my gray greatcoat that I didn’t want?”
Miss P. “You did not give him your new greatcoat?”
Pop. “It was beastly ugly, and I did give it him; and I’ll give him this if I choose. And don’t you speak to me; I’m going to school, and I ain’t going to have no governesses soon.”
Mrs. Prior. “Ah, dear child! what a nice coat it is; and how well my poor boy looks in it!”