"What!" snarled the young puss, starting on her first muffin.
Even poor Cousin Jane from Cumberland, who was nearly twice the age of the young minx, got snubbed most severely when she ventured some perfectly commonplace remark. And such a nice, sensible girl as she was.
"How do you spend your time in Cumberland?" said the unfortunate heir, beginning to feel horribly cheap, and wondering if he might venture upon a large whisky and a small apollinaris.
"I hunt otters all the mornin'!" said the nice, sensible Cousin Jane, "and in the evenin' I gen'rally knit bed-*socks."
You must talk a little louder, please, now that the Blue Bulgarian Bazoukas have opened fire upon that magnificent 1812 Overture by Tchaikowski.
"How rippin' they play, don't they, Adela?" said Cousin Jane from Cumberland. "So nice and loud."
"What!" snarled the young minx above the strident outcries of the Great Retreat.
"Rather makes you think of otter huntin'—just when they begin the worry."
The irresistible élan of the Blue Bulgarian Bazoukas inspired Mr. Philip to an act of hardihood. Under cover of the clamor, he hailed a passing waiter.
