vas. She then came
at each of them in turn, _more dramatico._

"A pretty face, and not like Woffington. I owe you two, Kate Clive."

"Who ever saw Peggy's real face? Look at it now if you can without
blushing, Mr. Quin."

Quin, a good-humored fellow, took the wisest view of his predicament,
and burst into a hearty laugh.

"For all this," said Mr. Snarl, peevishly, "I maintain, upon the
unalterable principles of art--" At this they all burst into a roar,
not sorry to shift the ridicule. "Goths!" cried Snarl, fiercely.
"Good-morning, ladies and gentlemen," cried Mr. Snarl, _avec intention,_
"I have a criticism to write of last night's performance." The laugh
died away to a quaver. "I shall sit on your pictures one day, Mr.
Brush."

"Don't sit on them with your head downward, or you'll addle them," said
Mr. Brush, fiercely. This was the first time Triplet had ever answered
a foe. Mrs. Woffington gave him an eloquent glance of encouragement. He
nodded his head in infantine exultation at what he had done.

"Come, Soaper," said Mr. Snarl.

Mr. Soaper lingered one moment to say: "You shall always have my good
word, Mr. Triplet."

"I will try--and not deserve it, Mr. Soaper," was the prompt reply.

"Serve 'em right," said Mr. Cibber, as soon as the door had closed upon
them; "for a couple of serpents, or rather one boa-constrictor. Soaper
slavers, for Snarl to crush. But we were all a little too hard on
Triplet here; and, if he will accept my apology--"

"Why, sir," said Triplet, half trembling, but driven on by looks from
Mrs. Woffington, "'Cibber's Apology' is found to be a trifle wearisome."

"Confound his impertinence!" cried the astounded laureate. "Come along,
Jemmy."

"Oh, sir," said Quin, good-humoredly, "we must give a joke and take a
joke. And when he paints my portrait--which he shall do--"

"The bear from Hockley Hole shall sit for the head!"

"Curse his impudence!" roared Quin. "I'm at your service, Mr. Cibber,"
added he, in huge dudgeon.

Away went the two old boys.

"Mighty well!" said waspish Mrs. Clive. "I did intend you should have
painted Mrs. Clive. But after this impertinence--"

"You will continue to do it yourself, ma'am!"

This was Triplet's hour of triumph. His exultation was undignified,
and such as is said to precede a fall. He inquired gravely of Mrs.
Woffington, whether he had or had not shown a spirit. Whether he had or
had not fired into each a parting shot, as they sheered