por-portrait? portent? no,
_protest_ against des-des (_recklessly_) despoticism, and tyranny,
but I see it is only--Por-Porliffymus fasting upon the companions of
Ulyces."

_Her Male Parent._ Do it tell yer what that there big arm and leg be
a' doin' of in the middle of 'em?

_Daughter_ (_stolidly_). Don't you be in a nurry, Father
(_continuing_) "in the midst of some colonial? _That_ ain't
it--_colossial_ animiles fanatically--fan-tasty-cally--" why, this
catalogue is 'alf foreign!

_Female P._ Never mind, say Peterborough at the 'ard words--_we_
shan't be none the wiser!

_Daughter_. "The sime-boalic ram the 'ero is to Peterborough and leave
'is Peterborough grotter--"

_Male P._ That'll do--read what it says about the next one.

_Daughter_ (_reading_). "The Forge of Vulkin. Words are useless 'ere.
Before sech a picture one can but look, and think, and enjoy it."

_Both Parents_ (_impressed_). Lor!

[_They smack their lips reverently; Miss TROTTER enters the
Gallery._

_Culch._ (_rising and going to meet her_). Good morning, Miss TROTTER.
We--ah--meet again.

_Miss T._ That's an undeniable fact. I've left Poppa outside. Poppa
restricts himself to exteriors wherever he can--says he doesn't seem
to mix up his impressions so much that way. But you're alone, too.
Where've you hitched your friend up?

_Culch._ My friend did not rise sufficiently early to accompany me.
And, by the way, Miss TROTTER, I should like to take this opportunity
of disabusing your mind of the--er--totally false impression--

_Miss T._ Oh, _that's_ all right. I told him he needn't try to give me
away, for I could see you weren't _that_ kind of man!

_Culch._ (_gratefully_). Your instinct was correct--perfectly
correct. When you say "that kind of man," I presume you refer to the
description my--er--friend considered it humorous to give of me as an
unsociable hypochondriac?

_Miss T._ Well, no; he didn't say just that. He represented you as
one of the fonniest persons alive; said you told stories which tickled
folks to death almost.

_Culch._ (_annoyed_). Really, this is _most_ unpardonable of Mr.
PODBURY! To have such odious calumnies circulated about one behind
one's back is simply too--I do _not_ aspire to--ah--to tickle folks to
death!

_Miss T._ (_soothingly_). Well, I guess there's no harm done. I didn't
feel like being in any imminent danger of perishing that way in your
society. You're real high-toned and ever so