Punch (94.1888)

March 10, 1888.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

109

VOCES POPULI.

AT A DINNER-PARTY.
In the Hall.

Guest discovered removing coat and hat, which are taken by a Man
with a Eeproving Eye, amidst a grieved silence.

Butler {to Subordinates, in ghostly whisper). Tell 'em they can
send up as soon as they please—now.

The Guest [to himself, on the stairs). I am the last man then?
Kept them all waiting, too, I shouldn't wonder ... J don't care—
they shouldn't ask a man to dine out the very evening he's been—
(catching'sight of himself in the mirror). Jove! I mustn't go in
looking like that, though—or they '11 see what's the matter !

[Assumes a jaunty smile.
In the Dbawing-boom.

Chorus of Starving Guests (in undertone). Too had, you know-
can';; understand it! ... No one has any right to do this sort of
thing—don't care who he is! . . . Generally so punctual here ....
I make it a rule—never wait over five minutes past the hour for any-
one .. . Quite right too, &c, &c.
Butler. Mr. St. John Beentwing.
[Enter last Guest under concentrated, glare from surrounding
eyes, which he seems rather to enjoy than otherwise.
Hostess (with implied reproach). I began to be quite afraid some-
thing had happened to you.

[Mr. B. thinks that she is not far wrong, and mumbles apologies.
Butler (re-appearing after a moments pause outside the door).
Dinner is served.
Hostess (to Mr. B.). Let me see—do you know Miss Flambowe P
Mr B. (who has been rejected by the young lady in question that
verv 'afternoon). I—ah—do know Miss Flambowe.

[Adds—" at last!" to himself bitterly and feels better.
Hostess. Then I want you to take her in, please. Tou won't mind

being close to the fire ? , ,

TMr B thinks he has been very close to the fire already.

A Paternal Old Gentleman. A most charming young lady-I
congratulate you, Sir,—char-ming! ,

Mr. B. (advancing to Miss Flambowe with elaborate indifference).
I believe I'm to take you in. j„„.„um„__tin m »\

Miss F. (looking down, and hoping he doesn t mean to be silly.")

I believe you are. On the Status.

Mr. B. (thinking he'd better say something). Have you been out

atj$5s°>?aOn?ly in the morning-such a wretched day hasn't it
been ? [ Wishes she'd said something else.

Mr. B. Has it? "Well, it was rather a dismal afternoon, now I

^MhsF^chL to take this literally). Oh very-but, after all,
onfmusf ei?ect a Uttle unpleasantness just at this time of the year,

mUMr' 7?OIOh ves—vou can get used to anything if you only make
up your mind'to W P* f» he is carrying it off rather well.
At the Dinnee-Table.
M,\* V TTnw nrettilv the table's arranged, isn't it ?—though I
nevfrgL Kkltrfeelowers strewn carelessly about, do you? I

end over the better fotSunrbot? you should-it's capital!
gone too far.) Aren t you some\nouthfuh w{th anVeffort.

Miss F. I'm glad you 're enjoying it.. [She crumbles her bread.

Mr B I had no luncheon this morning, you see-and so-(lays
downhfskn^Mk)Vat giyes a fellow an you know.

it t i Sherrv or Uck, bir? ) Koclc.

doKelieve he minds a ^-and yet, he

^B^t^^hfsller neighbour) Wl, no, there isn't
much doing just now. I've been meaning to get away for a long
time-go abroad and rough it a bit, don't you know. (He has raised
his voice unconsciously for benefit of Miss F.) Start next week at

^MisT^Se^ntly, to her other neighbour, who is telling her a
funny story about Sydney Smith.) How very mteresting-and you
saw that yourself ^.^0UJ. puts jier doivn mentally as a pretty idiot.

Miss F. (to Mr. B.) Did I hear you say you were going abroad just
now—where did you think of going ?

Mr. B. (who has only justjhought of it). Well, I shall run over to
the Rockies and shoot grizzlies.

Miss F. Do you think you could lower that candle-shade a little F
Thanks. Shoot grizzlies ? You will like that, won t you (

Mr. B. Immensely. (To Footman.) Champagne, please.
Miss F. I suppose you have friends out there ?
Mr. B. I had a friend who went out some time ago.
Miss F. And you are going to join him ?
Mr. B. (carelessly). Shouldn't be surprised if I did—sooner or later,
Miss F. Is he settled out there, then ?
Mr. B. Settled ? oh, yes—he's settled.
Miss F. And he likes the country ?

Mr. B. He wasn't there long enough to tell—fell down a cliff, or
Dmething, and was killed, out. >l"»i«'

fpose i ougntn't to nave offered—I never know about these thingb
must wait, then—till—till I hear news of you . . . were you
looking for something ?
Miss F. Only a little water, please.

OVEE THE ClGAEETTES.

Host (to Mr. B.) And how did you get on with that Miss Flam
bowe, eh, Beeniwing ? Nice girl, isn't she ?
Mr. B. Very.

[Helps himself to salted almonds—which he doesn't like.
Host (confidentially). Now that's a girl now—a young fellow like
you . . . chance for you . . . might do worse, eh ?

Mr. B. (taking a cigarette and wishing his hand wouldn't shake so
confoundedly). Well, you see, Sir—as to that—(laughs awkwardly)
well, there are two sides to every question, aren't there ?

Host. I tell you what, Beeniwing, you young men are too selfish
nowadays—you don't like to give up your clubs, and your ohambers,
and all your bachelor enjoyments,—not if it's to marry the nicest girl
in the world—that's what it is!

Mr. B. (laughing again unsteadily). That's about the truth of it,
Sir,—we 're a poor lot!

Upstairs.

The Hostess (to Miss F.) And so you have met your "neighbour
before? He's quite a favourite of mine—only he shouldn't come so
late to dinner. I hope you found him amusing ?

Miss F. Oh, extremely—he's going out to America, he says, to
to shoot bears, or something.

Hostess. He never said a word about it to me. What can he want
to rush off like that for ?
Miss F. He didn't tell me that.
[She watches the door under her eyelashes, as the men enter
Mr. Beeniwing engages in an animated conversation with
lively young lady at the other end of the room. The Paternal
Old Gentleman comes up and entertains Miss Flambowe
with elderly attentions for the rest of the evening, which she
appears to appreciate highly.

In the Hall.

Mr. B. (who by the merest accident has taken his leave the moment
after Miss F.) Are they getting you a cab ?

[Coldly, to Miss F. whom he finds below.

Miss F. It's outside—I'm only waiting for my maid. Good-night
—or I suppose I ought to say—Good-bye ?

Mr. B. (stiffly). After this afternoon, I should imagine good-bye
was the only thing to say.

Miss F. And you couldn't manage to come and see me just once—
before you go away to your bears ?

[Turns aside to arrange her hood.
Mr. B. I could, of course,—only I don't exactly see what the good
of it would be!

Miss F. Of course you are the best judge of that—I only thought
you might find it worth while perhaps.
Mr. B. Ltjcella ! Do you mean . . . ?

Miss F. (as she gets into cab). I mean that I don't always quite
know what I do mean. Good-night.

Mr. B. (soliloquising on pavement). If I do go, she'll only make a
fool of me again. ... I won't give her the chance. ... At least, I 'H
think over it. [ Walks home, and thinks over it.

Plating with Money.—Not gambling, but acting. The A.D.C.
of Cambridge must be in flourishing circumstances. They gave
Money last week. The costumier let the Club have bis best dresses
for Money. Everything was done for Money that money could do,
and so money came in, and Money "went" uncommonly well. After
Saturday afternoon there was no more Money, but it may be hoped
by an Old Stager that the Club re-couped itself.

Electbic Lighting in the City.—Will the City Fathers give
"the Brush system" a fair chance? The name is too suggestive
of a sweeping measure to find favour with the doughty champions ot
fine old vested interests.

vol. xctv.