Punch, Or The London Charivari | Page 3

interesting!
Dick Gatling (_of H.M. Gunboat "Weasel"_). Brought him over my last cruise from Colombo. No end of a jolly little beast--bites like the--like blazes, you know!
Miss Stella (_to her Cousin_). Now, DICK, I won't have you taking away poor Jacko's character like that. He's only bitten BINNS--and, well, there was the gardener's boy--but I'm sure he teased him. You won't tease him, will you, Mr. HEADNOTE?
The Curate. I--I shouldn't dream of it, Miss STELLA,--on the contrary, I--(_To himself._) Was it quite discreet to let myself be drawn into this? Shall I not risk lowering my office by publicly associating myself with a--a Monkey? I feel certain the Vicar would disapprove strongly.
Dick (_to Colonel KEMPTON_). Drawn your animal yet, Sir?
The Colonel (_heatedly_). Yes, I have--and I wish I'd kept out of this infernal tomfoolery. Why the mischief don't they leave a man in peace and quietness on a hot afternoon like this? Here am I, routed out of a comfortable seat to go and drive a confounded White Rabbit, Sir! Idiotic, I call it!
The Curate. Pardon me, Colonel KEMPTON; but if you object to the Rabbit, I would not at all mind undertaking it myself--and you could take my Monkey--
The Colonel. Thanks--but I won't deprive you. A Rabbit is quite responsibility enough for me!
The Curate (_to himself, disappointed_). He's afraid of a poor harmless Monkey--and he an Army man, too! But I _don't_ see why _I_--
Miss Gussie Grissell. Oh, Mr. HEADNOTE, _isn't_ it ridiculous! They've given me a Kitten! It makes me feel too absurdly young!
The Curate (_eagerly_). If you would prefer a--a more appropriate animal, there's a Monkey, which I am sure--(_To himself, as Miss G. turns away indignantly_). This Monkey doesn't seem very popular--there must be someone here who--I'll try the American Lady--they are generally eccentric. (_To Mrs. HEBER K. BANGS._) I hope Fortune has been kind to you, Mrs. BANGS?
_Mrs. Bangs_. Well, I don't know; there are quadrupeds that can trot faster over the measured mile than a Tortoise, and that's my animal.
The Curate (_with sympathy_). Dear me! That is a trial, indeed, for you! But if you would prefer something rather more exciting, I should be most happy, I'm sure, to exchange my Monkey--
Dick Gatling (_bustling up_). Hallo, what's that? No, no, Mrs. BANGS--be true to your Tortoise. I tell you he's going to romp in--?sop's tip, don't you know? I've backed you to win or a place. I say, what do you think _I_'ve drawn--the Mutton! Just my luck!
The Curate. DICK, just come this way a moment--I've a proposition to make; it's occurred to me that the Monkey would feel more--more at home with you, and, in short, I--
_Mr. Plumley Duff_ (_plaintively, to Miss CYNTHIA CHAFFERS_). I shouldn't have minded any other animal--but to be paired off with a Goose!
Miss Chaffers (_consolingly_). You're better off than I am, at all events--I've got a Puppy!
_Mr. Duff_. Have you? (_After a pause--sentimentally_.) Happy Puppy!
_Miss C._ He'll be anything but a happy Puppy if he doesn't win.
_Mr. Duff_. Oh, but he's sure to. I know I would, if I was your Puppy!
_Miss C._ I'm not so sure of that. Don't they lodge objections, or something, for boring?
_Mr. Fanshawe_. Can anybody inform me whether I'm expected to go and catch my Peacock? Because I'll be hanged if--
The Curate. Oh, Miss STELLA, it's all right--Mr. GATLING thinks that it would be better if he undertook the Monkey himself; so we've arranged to--
Miss Stella. Oh, nonsense, DICK! I can't have you taking advantage of Mr. HEADNOTE's good-nature like that. What's the use of drawing lots at all if you don't keep to them? Of course Mr. HEADNOTE will keep the Monkey.
[The unfortunate Curate accepts his lot with Christian resignation.
Dick. Well, _that's_ settled--but I say, STELLA, where's my Mutton's moorings--and what's to be the course?
Stella. The course is straight up the Avenue from the Lodge to the House, and I've told them to get all the beasts down there ready for us; so we'd better go at once.
THE START.
The Competitors. STELLA, my dear, _mustn't_ Miss GRISSELL tell her kitten not to claw my Tortoise's head every time he pokes his poor nose out? It isn't fair, and it's damping all his enthusiasm!... Now, Colonel KEMPTON, it isn't the Puppy's fault--you know your Rabbit began it!... Hi, STELLA, hold on a bit, my Mutton wants to lie down. Mayn't I kick it up!... DUFF, old chap, your Goose is dragging her anchor again, back her engines a bit, or there'll be a foul.... Miss STELLA, I--I really _don't_ think this Monkey is quite well--his teeth are chattering in such a very.... All right, padre, only his nasty temper--jerk the beggar's chain. More than that!
Chorus of Spectators at Lodge Gates. My word, I wonder what next the gentry'll be up to, I dew. Ain't Miss