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قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, February 25, 1893

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‏اللغة: English
Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, February 25, 1893

Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, February 25, 1893

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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lecturing her Niece on a couch by the fire, while little Gwendolen is in a corner with a Picture-book.

Mrs. Bodfish (in a wheezy whisper). If he had condescended to make himself agreeable all round, I shouldn't say a word; but to sit there talking to that little forward governess, and never an audible word from first to last—well, I quite felt for poor dear Mrs. Tidmarsh being so neglected at her own table.

Mrs. Ditch. Ah, my dear, if she will have the aristocracy to dine with her, she must put up with such treatment. I wouldn't stoop to such presumption myself. And, if I did, I would have a couple of entrées, and everything carved off the table! He'll go away with such a poor opinion of us all!

Mrs. Bod. He must have noticed how the vegetable dishes were chipped! And I'm sure I was ashamed to see she had put out those old-fashioned doyleys with the finger-glasses. I wonder she never thought of getting some new ones. I saw some the other day in the Grove, hand-worked, at only five-pence three-farthings!

Mrs. Ditch. I could see something was weighing on her mind, or she'd have talked more to him. What is his title? It sounded like "Stratspoddle." I must look it out in my Peerage. Would he be an Earl now, or what?

Mrs. Bod. I don't expect he's more than a Viscount, if so much. I do think she might have presented us to him, though!

Mrs. Ditch. It isn't the fashion to introduce, nowadays. But I consider we are quite entitled to speak to him, if we get an opportunity—in fact, he would think it very odd if we didn't! (&c., &c.)

Mrs. Gilwattle. Well, Maria, I say, as I said before, don't let it turn your head, that's all! Depend upon it, this young nobleman isn't so affable for nothing. He wouldn't dine with you like this unless he expected to get something out of it. What that something may be, you best know!

Mrs. Tid. (to herself). A guinea, at the very least! (Aloud.) I'm sorry you think my head's so easily turned, Aunt Joanna! If you'd noticed how I behaved to him, you wouldn't say so. Why, I scarcely spoke to the man!

Mrs. Gilw. I was watching you, Maria. And sorry I was to see that being next to a member of the nobility overawed you to that extent you could hardly open your mouth. So unlike your Uncle Gabriel!

Mrs. Tid. (hurt at this injustice). Overawed, indeed! I'm sure it was no satisfaction to me to see him here! No, Aunt the only people I welcome at my table are those in my own rank of life—relations and old friends like you and the others. And how you can think I was dazzled by a trumpery title when I sent him in with the Governess——!

Mrs. Gil. Ah, you make too much of that girl, Maria. I've noticed it, and others have noticed it. She takes too much upon herself! The idea of letting her forbid Gwendolen to recite—no wonder your authority over the child is weakened! I should have insisted on obedience.

Mrs. Tid. (roused). I hope I know how to make my own child obey me. Gwendolen, come out of that corner. Put down your book. (Gwen. obeys.) I wish you to repeat something to your Auntie—what you refused to say downstairs—you know what I mean!

Gwen. Do you mean the thing Miss Seaton said I wasn't to, because you'd be angry?

Mrs. Tid. (majestically). Miss Seaton had no business to know whether I should be angry or not. She is only your Governess—I am your Mother. And I shall be extremely angry if you don't repeat it at once—in fact, I shall send you off to bed. So you can choose for yourself.

Gwen. I don't want to go to bed ... I'll tell, if I may whisper it.

Mrs. Tid. Well, if you are too shy to speak out loud, you may whisper. You see, Aunt, I am not quite such a cipher as you fancied!

[Gwen. puts her mouth to Mrs. Gilwattle's ear, and proceeds to whisper.


Scene IX.Breakfast-room—Time, the same as in the foregoing Scene. Mr. Tidmarsh, after proposing to "join the ladies," much to the relief of Lord Strathsporran, has brought him in here on the transparent pretext of showing him a picture.

Mr. Tid. (carefully closing the door). I only just wanted to tell you that I don't at all like the way you've been going on. It's not my wish to make complaints, but there is a limit!

Lord Strath. (hotly). There is—you're very near it now, Sir! (To himself.) If I quarrel with this little beggar, I shan't see Marjory! (Controlling his temper.) Perhaps you'll kindly let me know what you complain of?

Mr. Tid. Well, why couldn't you say you didn't smoke when my Uncle offered you one of his cigars? You must have felt me kick you under the table!


Mrs. Gilwattle rises slowly, bristling with indignation.

Lord. Strath. I did—distinctly. But I gave you credit for its being accidental. And, if you wish to know, I said I smoked because I do. I don't see why you should expect me to lie about it!

Mr. Tid. I don't agree with you. I consider you ought to have had more tact, after the hint I gave you.

Lord Strath. It didn't occur to me that you were trying to kick tact into me. And, naturally, when I saw your Uncle about to smoke——

Mr. Tid. That was different, as you might have known. Why, one cigar is as much as my wife can stand!

Lord Strath. You—er—wouldn't wish her to smoke more than one, surely?

Mr. Tid. (outraged). My wife smoke! Never did such a thing in her life! She don't allow me to smoke. She wouldn't allow Mr. Gilwattle if he wasn't her Uncle. And I can tell you, when she comes down in the morning, and finds the curtains smelling of smoke, and hears you were the other, I shall catch it!

Lord Strath. Sorry for you—but if you had only made your kick a trifle more explanatory——

Mr. Tid. That's not all, Sir. When you saw me and my Uncle engaged in talking business, what did you cut in for with a cock-and-bull story about the Boxing Kangaroo being formed into a Limited Company, and say the Kangaroo was going to join the Board after allotment? You couldn't really believe the beast was eligible as a Director—an animal, Sir!

Lord Strath. Why not? They have guinea-pigs on the Board occasionally, don't they? But of course it was only a joke.

Mr. Tid. You weren't asked to make jokes. My Uncle doesn't understand 'em—no more do I, Sir!

Lord Strath. No, I gathered that. (Breaking out.) Confound it all, Sir, what do you mean by this? If you didn't want me, why couldn't you tell me so? You knew it before I did! I don't understand your peculiar ideas of hospitality. I've kept my temper as long as I could; but, dash it all, if you

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