Mr. H. (by way of proclaiming his indifference).  Miss PINKNEY?  She ought to be Mrs. SOMEBODY by this time,—­she’s getting on for thirty.

Polly.  Ah, but she don’t look it, does she:  not with that lovely coloured ’air and complexion?  You knew she painted, I dessay?  She don’t look—­well, not more than thirty-two, at the outside.  She spends a lot on her ’air, I know.  She sent our GEORGY one day to the ’air-dresser’s for a bottle of the stuff she puts on, and the barber sez:  “What, do you dye your ’air?” To little GEORGY! fancy!

Mr. H. Well, she may dye herself magenter for all I care. (Changing the subject.) ARTHUR’s found a lot of old friends at Melbun,—­first person he come upon was a policeman as used to be at King Street; and you remember that Miss LAVENDER he used to go out with? (Speaking at FLO.) Well, her brother was on board the steamer he went in.

Polly.  It’s all right, FLO, ain’t it? so long as it wasn’t Miss LAVENDER herself! (To Mr. H.) I say, ain’t you got a moustarsh comin’!

Mr. H. (wounded for the third time).  That’ll do.  I’m off this time! [The devoted ALF once more prepares for departure.

Polly.  All right!  Tell us where you’ll be, and we may come and meet you.  I daresay we shall find you by the Outer Circle,—­where the children go when they get lost.  I say, ERNIE, look what a short frock that girl’s got on.

Mr. H. (lingering undecidedly).  I don’t want to look at no girls, I tell you.

Polly.  What, can’t you see one you like,—­not out of all this lot?

Mr. H. Not one.  Plenty of ’ARRIETS! [Scornfully.

Flo. Ah! and ’ARRIES too.  There’s a girl looking at you, ERNIE; do turn round.

Mr. H. (loftily).  I’m sure I shan’t look at her, then.  I expected a cousin of mine would ha’ turned up here by now.

Polly.  I wish he’d come.  P’raps I might fall in love with him,—­who knows?—­or else FLO might.

Mr. H. Ah! he’s a reg’lar devil, I can tell you, my cousin is.  Why, I’m a saint to ’im!

Polly.  Oh, I daresay!  “Self-praise,” you know!

Mr. H. (with a feeling that he is doing himself an injustice).  Not but what I taught him one or two things he didn’t know, when he was with me at Wandsworth. (Thinks he won’t go until he has dropped one more hint about Australia.) As to Ostralia, you know, I’ve quite made up my mind to go out there as soon as I can.  I ain’t said nothing, but I’ve been meaning it all along.  They won’t mind my going at home, like they did ARTHUR’s, eh?

Flo (in a tone of cordial assent).  Oh no, of course not.  It isn’t as if you were ’im, is it?