Part 3 (2/2)
MISS D'AUT. (_to herself as she escapes_). I suppose one ought to put up with this sort of thing--for a charity!
MRS. BABBICOMBE (_at the Toy Stall, to the Belle of the Bazaar, aged three-and-a-half_). You _perfect_ duck! You're simply too _sweet_! I _must_ find you something. (_She tempers generosity with discretion by presenting her with a small pair of knitted doll's socks_.) There, darling!
The BELLE'S MOTHER. What do you say to the kind lady _now_, Marjory?
MARJORY (_a practical young person, to the donor_). Now div me a dolly to put ve socks on.
[MRS. B. _finds herself obliged to repair this omission_.
A YOUNG LADY RAFFLER (_to a_ YOUNG MAN). Do take a ticket for this charmin' _sachet_. Only half-a-crown!
The YOUNG MAN. Delighted! If you'll put in for this _splendid_ cigar cabinet. Two s.h.i.+llin's!
[_The_ YOUNG LADY _realises that she has encountered an Augur, and pa.s.ses on_.
MISS DE. M. (_to_ MR. ISTHMIAN GATWICK). Can't I tempt you with this tea-cosy? It's so absurdly cheap!
MR. ISTHMIAN GATWICK (_with dignity_). A-thanks; I think not. Never _take_ tea, don't you know.
MISS DE M. (_with her characteristic adaptability_). Really? No more do _I_. But you _could_ use it as a _smoking-cap_, you know. _I_ always----
[_Recollects herself, and breaks off in confusion_.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”You have lofty ambitions and the artistic temperament.”]
MISS OPHELIA PALMER (_in the ”Wizard's Cave”--to_ MR. CADNEY ROWSER).
Yes, your hand indicates an intensely refined and spiritual nature; you are perhaps a _little_ too indifferent to your personal comfort where that of others is concerned; sensitive--too much so for your own happiness, perhaps--you feel things keenly when you _do_ feel them. You have lofty ambitions and the artistic temperament--seven-and-sixpence, please.
MR. C. R. (_impressed_). Well, Miss, if you can read all that for seven-and-six on the palm of my 'and, I wonder what you _wouldn't_ see for 'alf a quid on the sole o' my boot!
[MISS P.'S _belief in Chiromancy sustains a severe shock_.
BOBBIE PATTERSON (_outside tent, as Showman_). This way to the Marvellous Jumping Bean from Mexico! Threepence!
VOICE FROM TENT. Bobbie! Stop! The Bean's _lost_! Lady Honor's horrid Thought-reading Poodle has just stepped in and swallowed it.
BOBBIE. Ladies and Gentlemen, owing to sudden domestic calamity, the Bean has been unavoidably compelled to retire, and will be unable to appear till further notice.
MISS SMYLIE (_to_ MR. OTIS BARLEYWATER, _who--in his own set--is considered ”almost equal to Corney Grain”_). I thought you were giving your entertainment in the library? Why _aren't_ you?
MR. OTIS BARLEYWATER (_in a tone of injury_). Why? Because I can't give my imitations of Arthur Roberts and Yvette Guilbert with anything _like_ the requisite ”go,” unless I get a better audience than three programme-sellers, all under ten, and the cloak-room maid--_that's_ why!
MRS. ALLb.u.t.t-INNETT (_as she leaves, for the benefit of bystanders_). I must say, the house is _most_ disappointing--not at _all_ what I should expect a _Marquis_ to live in. Why, my _own_ reception-rooms are very nearly as large, and decorated in a much more modern style!
BOBBIE PATTERSON (_to a_ ”DOOSID GOOD-NATURED FELLOW, _who doesn't care what he does,” and whom he has just discovered inside a case got up to represent an automatic sweetmeat machine_). Why, my dear old _chap_! No idea it was _you_ inside that thing! Enjoying yourself in there, eh?
The DOOSID GOOD-NATURED FELLOW (_fluffily, from the interior_). Enjoying myself! With the beastly pennies droppin' down into my boots, and the kids howlin' because all the confounded chocolates have worked up between my shoulder-blades, and I can't shake 'em out of the slit in my arm? I'd like to see _you_ tryin' it!
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