Mr. W.—Yes, he's a fellow of college—fellows mayn't marry, Miss Mullins—poor fellows, ay, Miss Mullins?
Miss M.—La!
Mr. W.—And Professor of Phlebotomy in the University. He flatters himself he is a man of the world, Miss Mullins, and always dances in the long vacation.
Miss M.—You malicious, wicked monster!
Mr. W.—Do you know Lady Jane Ranville? Miss Ranville's mamma. A ball once a year; footmen in canary-colored livery: Baker Street; six dinners in the season; starves all the year round; pride and poverty, you know; I've been to her ball ONCE. Ranville Ranville's her brother, and between you and me—but this, dear Miss Mullins, is a profound secret,—I think he's a greater fool than his sister.
Miss M.—Oh, you satirical, droll, malicious, wicked thing you!
Mr. W.—You do me injustice, Miss Mullins, indeed you do.
[Chaine Anglaise.]
MISS JOY, MR. AND MRS. JOY, MR. BOTTER.
Mr. B.—What spirits that girl has, Mrs. Joy!