The things we do!

Wistful provincials
gaze in at the clubs. Foreigners chatter and show their teeth, and look
at the ladies in the carriages, and smoke and spit refreshingly round
about. Policeman X slouches along the pavement. It is five o'clock, the
noon in Pall Mall.
"Here's little Newcome coming," says Mr. Horace Fogey. "He and the
muffin-man generally make their appearance in public together."
"Dashed little prig," says Sir Thomas de Boots, "why the dash did they
ever let him in here? If I hadn't been in India, by dash--he should have
been blackballed twenty times over, by dash." Only Sir Thomas used words
far more terrific than dash, for this distinguished cavalry officer swore
very freely.
"He amuses me; he's such a mischievous little devil," says good-natured
Charley Heavyside.
"It takes very little to amuse you," remarks Fogey.
"You don't, Fogey," answers Charley. "I know every one of your demd old
stories, that are as old as my grandmother. How-dy-do, Barney?" (Enter
Barnes Newcome.


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