The things we do!

Newcome knows it as well as I do." My good Major was growing old, and was
not unnaturally a little testy at the manner in which his hostess
received him. Truth to tell, she hardly took any notice of him and cut
down a couple of the old gentleman's stories before he had been five
minutes in the room.
To our party presently comes the host in a flurried countenance, with a
white waistcoat, holding in his hand an open letter, towards which his
wife looks with some alarm. "How dy' doo, Lady Clara, how dy' doo,
Ethel?" he says, saluting those ladies, whom the second carriage had
brought to us. "Sir Barnes is not coming, that's one place vacant; that,
Lady Clara, you won't mind, you see him at home: but here's a
disappointment for yon, Miss Newcome, Lord Farintosh can't come."
At this, two of the children cry out "Oh! oh!" with such a melancholy
accent that Miss Newcome and Lady Clara burst out laughing.
"Got a dreadful toothache," said Mr. Hobson; "here's his letter."
"Hang it, what a bore!" cries artless young King's College.


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