LESBIA NEWMAN.
19
eh? But I say, if there ain’t Arthur Guineabush and his cousin Miss Dimpleton at the end of the lawn! I shall cut it, em con. I don’t want to be overwhelmed with any more of that young lady’s pious platitudes,—had enough of them and to spare on Sunday.’
‘And she had enough of you probably,’ observed Lesbia, laughing at him. ‘You very markedly sat upon her piety,—squashed it quite into a ‘platitude.’’
Mr Lockstable slipped off, muttering as he went,—‘Dash my wig, sir, dash—my—wig, sir.’
