ink you should quite say that, my dear. I could
always make myself understood abroad, you know, though my accent is
perhaps a little anglicized.

_Susan [laughing]._ Rayther so.

[_Guests exchange looks of astonishment._]

_Nokes [with precipation]._ My dear, what an expression! The fact is, my
friends, that madame has a young brother--Count Maximilian de
Montmorenci--at school in England, and what she knows of our language
she has mainly acquired from him. The consequence is, she occasionally
talks--in point of fact--slang.

_Susan [in broken English]._ Cherk the tinklare, coot your luckies, whos
your hattar? [_To Rasper_] Have your moder sold her mangle?

[_NOKES, SPONGE, and ROBINSON roar with laughter._]

_Rasper [aside]._ Confound that Nokes! He must have told her about my
family. [_With indignation_] Madam, I--[_Points by accident to the
portfolio._]

_Susan._ What? you weesh to see mai sketch? Oh, yas! [_Opens the
portfolio; the three guests crowd round it. Nokes comes down to the
front._]

_Nokes [aside]._ I wish they'd take their lunch and go away. They put me
in a profuse perspiration. I know they'll find her out.

_Robinson [with a sketch-book in his hand]._ Beautiful!

_Sponge [looking over his shoulder on tiptoe]._ Exquisite! most lovely!
it's what I call perfection.

_Rasper._ First-rate--only I've seen something like it before. [_Aside_]
If I haven't seen that in some print-shop. I'll be hanged. [_Blows._]

_Susan._ Ha! ha! you halve seen eet beefore, Mr.--_Gasper_? Think of
that, my husband,--Mr. Gasper has seen it beefore!

_Nokes [laughing uncomfortably]._ Ha! ha! What a funny idea!

_Rasper [obstinately]._ But I _have_, though; and in a shop-window, too.

_Susan [delightedly]._ That is superbe, magnifique! I am so happy, _so_
proud! My husband, they have copied this leetle work of mine in London!

[_ROBINSON and SPONGE clap their hands applaudingly._]

_Rasper [shakes his head; aside]._ Dashed if I don't believe it's a
chromolithograph! [_To Nokes_] I say, Nokes, you wrote to us in such
raptures about your wife's hands. Why does she keep her gloves on?

_Nokes [confused]._ Keep her gloves on? You mean why does she wear them
in-doors? Well, the fact is, the Montmorencis always do it. It's been a
family peculiarity for centuries,--like the Banshee. And, besides, she
does it to keep her hands delicate: they're just like roses--I mean
_white_ roses,--if you could only see 'em. But the