First Miss.—“O law, nothing!—that is, yes! Charles—that is,—Captain Travers, is a sweet poet, and was reciting to me some lines that he had composed upon a faded violet:—
“'The odor from the flower is gone,
That like thy—,
like thy something, I forget what it was; but his lines are sweet, and so original too! I wish that horrid Sir John Todcaster had not begun his story of the exciseman, for Lady Fitz-Boodle always quits the table when he begins.”
Third Miss.—“Do you like those tufts that gentlemen wear sometimes on their chins?”
Second Miss.—“Nonsense, Mary!”
Third Miss.—“Well, I only asked, Jane. Frank thinks, you know, that he shall very soon have one, and puts bear's-grease on his chin every night.”
Second Miss.—“Mary, nonsense!”
Third Miss.—“Well, only ask him. You know he came to our dressing-room last night and took the pomatum away; and he says that when boys go to Oxford they always—”
First Miss.—“O heavens! have you heard the news about the Lancers? Charles—that is, Captain Travers, told it me!”
Second Miss.—“Law! they won't go away before the ball, I hope!”