Punch (73.1877)

September ], 1877.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAEIVAEI.

93

A FACT.—(FREE TRANSLATION.)

Custom-House Officer. " Has your Dog been Verified ?" Brown. " What do you mean 1"{
Custom-House Officer. " Has he been passed by the Verificator, like the rest of your
' Bagages' ? " Brown. " My Dog's not a ' Bagage ' ! "

Custom-House Officer. "He is very large for a Dog I How would you that we should know

if he does not contain objects of contraband, parbleuI "

This evening the presence of the new arrivals causes an alteration in the table arrangement.
Hamlin Mumley the Poet, who has been, till now in the Vice-Chair, is deposed to make room for
Mr. Buddermer ; " because," says Boodels (who has his own views of the strictest etiquette) " he is
the older man, and you can't put a bachelor at the bottom of the table when there's a married
man present."

Somehow we, of the previous established party, are inclined to resent this. We are all older
friends of Boodels than this Mr. Buddermer, whom he only met last year at Scarborough. " A Jew
money-lender, or a swindler, for anything Boodels knows about him," insists Milburd.

Boodels takes an opportunity of informing us, pointedly before Milburd, that the Buddermers
live in the best society ; that they are out every night during the season, except when they are giving
most splendid parties at their own house ; that they have the most beautiful equipage in London ;
that they go to the Prince of "Wales's garden-parties ; that there isn't a State Ball to which they are
not invited ; that privately, without anyone knowing much about it, she (Mrs. Buddebmer) visits the
Queen at Buckingham Palace, "and is" (Boodels informs us the more emphatically because he
detects Milburd winking) "constantly at Windsor; not, of course, when anyone's there, but as a
private friend. But," Boodels adds, as though he were afraid of having'committed some breach of
confidence about his Scarborough acquaintances, "don't talk of it before them."

"No, I should think it would be a sore subject," says Milburd, giving me a painfully sharp nudge.
But Boodels pays no attention to his remark.

We are all of us oppressed by this greatness being thrust upon us. For my part, when [I am
dressing for dinner on the first evening of their arrival, I feel inclined to go to bed, and leave the
Buddermers to Boodels.

Pogmore, Mumley, and Milburd are all more or less sulky about it, and agree that the charm of
the place will be thoroughly destroyed by this incursion.

Consequently, we are all late for dinner except Milburd, who, after abusing Mr. Buddermer as
a money-lender, and the whole party as, probably, "swindlers" who have gammoned Boodels at
Scarborough, has dressed rapidly, has been down in the drawing-room a full quarter of an hour
before anybody else, has thoroughly ingratiated himself with the new arrivals, and has conciliated
Boodels to such an extent, that I overhear our host in the recess in conversation with Mrs. Budder-
mer, informing her that his old friend Milburd is the cleverest, wittiest man he has ever met, that
he'll keep you in a roar of laughter, that he is the life and soul of every Country House. "And,"
he adds, in order to increase his present house value, "he is a most difficult man to get hold of, he's
always engaged."

" I think," I hear Mrs. Buddermer observe to Boodels, " I remember meeting him at Brikfield,
the Duke of Strawborough's place, two years ago."

" Very likely," says Boodels, carelessly. Had Milburd himself told him of his having been in
such aristocratic society, Boodels wouldn't have believed him, but, taking it on Mrs. Buddermer's
authority, it assumes the greatest importance as a fact, and Milburd's value has gone up immensely
in the market. In future, Boodels' account of Milburd will be, " Don't you know him ? Oh! he's

a very old friend of mine. He's
the wittiest, cleverest fellow you
ever met. It's most difficult to
get him to come and stay a few
days, as he's always with the
Prince, or at the Duke of
Strawbury's place, or with some
of our greatest swells."

Mrs. Buddermer is a rather
tall, elegant lady. There seems to
be a great deal of velvet and glit-
ter about her, also lace. She is the
first person you see on entering the
room, and the first person who
sees you. You recognise her voice
as Mrs. Buddemer's, though
you've never heard it before. She
is still a handsome woman. Her
eyes invite you to come up and
talk as an intimate friend at once.
Mumley is caught. The Composer
is caught. I am caught. We
are all caught in order, hooked,
landed. She is the Trimmer—
very much the Trimmer—and we
are the Eels. Hamlin Mumley,
who came in like a sulky lion, is
going on like a silly lamb. Pog-
more the Composer, who assumed
indifference (everyone comes into
the drawing-room in his own
peculiar manner, both before and
after dinner), is now standing by
Miss Buddermer, pointing out
the beauties of the garden. I
want to take my turn with Mrs.
Buddermer, but Milbubd is with
her, and if I go up now, he is sure
to say something unpleasant, per-
sonal, about myself. He has no
tact. Boodels, however, intro-
duces me, and leaves me. Mrs.
Buddermer acknowledges my
presence, but resumes her con-
versation as if I were a paren-
thesis in the middle of a sentence.
Milburd ignores me. I feel in-
clined to walk away, but then I
am sure they would laugh at me
behind my back. What they are
talking about, I haven't the
slightest idea. Boodels should
have chosen another moment for
introduction.

"I don't think he was always
like that," she observes to Mil-
burd, taking up the thread of
their previous conversation which
I had interrupted.

"Yes," replies Milburd,
" after her escapade. You see it
was a very unpleasant affair."
They don't even throw me a hint
to catch hold of. It's very awk-
ward to feel" out of it," but I do.

"Of course. But it was her
fault making it so public."

"Partly. How did you like
the ponies ? "

" The creams ? Oh, they were
very pretty, but they were so
slow, and she used really to flog
them unmercifully."

"She used. You know what
they used to say in the Park ?
No ? Didn't you hear P They
used to call them the Whipped
Creams."

"The whipped creams!" re-
peats Mrs. Buddemer. "Oh,
that's very good." Then she
laughs. She has beautiful teeth.
But while she laughs at Mil-
burd's wretched nonsense, she's
only pretending to laugh, I'm
sure—she looks at me as much