Part 4 (1/2)

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 peris.h.i.+ng that way in your society. You're real high-toned and ever so improving, and that's better than tickling, every time. And I want you to show me round this collection and give me a few notions. Seems to me there was considerable sand in Wiertz; sort of spread himself around a good deal, didn't he? I presume, though, he slept bad, nights. (_She makes the tour of the Gallery, accompanied by_ CULCHARD, _who admires her, against his better judgment, more and more_.) ... I declare if that isn't your friend Mr.

Podbury just come in! I believe I'll have to give you up to him.

CULCH. (_eagerly_). I beg you will not think it necessary. He--he has a guide already. _He_ does not require my services. And, to be plain, my poor friend--though an excellent fellow according to his--ah--lights--is a companion whose society occasionally amounts to a positive infliction.

MISS T. Well, I find him too chinny myself, times. Likely he won't notice us if we don't seem to be aware of him.

[_They continue to inspect the canvases._

A BELGIAN GUIDE (_who has made an easy capture of_ PODBURY _at the Hotel entrance_.) Hier now is a shdrainch beecture. ”De toughts and veesions of a saivered haid.” Fairsst meenut afder degapitation; de zagonde; de tirt. Hier de haid tink dey vant to poot him in a goffin. Dere are _two_ haids--von goes op, de udder down. Haf you got de two? Nod yet? No?

PODBURY (_shaking his head sagaciously_). Oh, ah, yes. Capital. Rum subject, though.

GUIDE. Yais, vary magnifique, vary grandt, and--and rom also! Dees von rebresents Napoleon in hail. De modders show him de laigs and ahums of dair sons keeled in de vars, and invide him to drink a cop of bloodt.

PODB. Ha, cheery picture that!

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”I PRESUME, THOUGH, HE SLEPT BAD, NIGHTS.”]

GUIDE. Cheery, oh, yais! Now com and beep troo dis 'ole. (PODBURY _obeys with docility_.) You see? A Mad Voman cooking her s.h.i.+ldt in a gettle.

Hier again, dey haf puried a man viz de golera pefore he is daid, he dries to purst de goffin, you see only de handt shd.i.c.king oudt.

PODB. The old Johnny seems full of pretty fancies. (_He looks through_ _another peephole._) Girl looking at skeleton. Ha! Any other domestic subjects on view? (_He suddenly sees_ MISS TROTTER _and_ CULCHARD _with their backs to him_.) Hal--lo, this _is_ luck! I must go to the rescue, or that beggar Culchard will bore her to death in no time. (_To_ GUIDE.) Here, hold on a minute. (_Crosses to_ CULCHARD, _followed by_ GUIDE.) How d' ye do, Miss Trotter? Doing the Wild Wiertz Show, I see. Ah, Culchard, why didn't you tell me you were going--might have gone together. I say, I've got a guide here.

CULCH. (_drily_). So we perceive--a very sensible plan, no doubt, in some cases, my dear fellow.

PODB. (_to_ MISS T.). Do come and listen to him, most intelligent chap--great fun. Mr. Culchard is above that sort of thing, I dare say.

GUIDE. Your vriendts laike to choin, yais? Same for tree as for von. I exblain all de beecture.

MISS T. You're vurry obliging, Mr. Podbury, but your friend is explaining it all just splendidly.

PODB. (_piqued_). Perhaps I had better dismiss my chap, and take on Mr.

Culchard too?