“Won’t you have a little more—white satin?”
“No, thank you, my lord, I don’t think I could stand it,” said Mrs. Railing, quickly regaining her composure. “You made the first dose rather strong, and we’ve got to get ’ome, you know.”
“I think we ought to be trotting, ma,” said her daughter.
“P’raps we ought. We’ve got a long way to go.”
“We’d better take the train, ma.”
“Oh, let’s go in a ’bus, my dear,” answered Mrs. Railing. “I like riding in ’buses, the conductors are so good-looking, and such gentlemen. Why, the other day I got into conversation with the conductor, and would you believe it, he made me drink a drop of beer with ’im at the end of the journey. Oh, he was a nice young man!”
“Ma!”
“Well, my dear, so ’e was. And ’e’s none the worse for being a ’bus conductor. They earn very good money, and ’e told me ’e was a married man, so I don’t see no ’arm in it.”
“Come on, ma, or we shall never get off,” said Miss Railing.
“Well, good-bye, my lord. And thank you.”