First Int.  T. I did say so, I believe; but it had better be second class all through, and I can always pay the difference if I want to.

    [The Clerk alters the sums accordingly, and adds up again.

Clerk.  Fifty-five pounds fourteen and a penny, Sir.  Shall I make you put the tickets now?

First Int.  T. Um, no.  On second thoughts, I’d like to see one of your short Circular Tours for the English Lakes, or Wales, before I decide.

    [The Clerk hands him a quantity of leaflets, with which he
    retires.

Enter Mr. CLARENDON CULCHARD, age about twenty-eight; in Somerset House; tall; clean-shaven, wears glasses, stoops slightly, dresses carefully, though his tall hat is of the last fashion but two.  He looks about him expectantly, and then sits down to wait.

Culchard (to himself).  No sign of him yet!  I do like a man to keep an appointment.  If this is the way he begins—­I have my doubts whether he is quite the sort of fellow to—­but I took the precaution to ask HUGH ROSE about him, and ROSE said he was the best company in the world, and I couldn’t help getting on with him.  I don’t think ROSE would deceive me.  And from all I’ve seen of PODBURY, he seems a pleasant fellow enough.  What a Babel!  All these people bent on pleasure, going to seek it in as many directions—­with what success no one can predict.  There’s an idea for a sonnet there.

    [He brings out a pocket-book, and begins to write—­“As when
    a—­“

An Amurrcan Citizen (to Clerk).  See here, I’ve been around with your tickets in Yurrup, and when I was at Vernis, I bought some goods at a store there, and paid cash down for ’em, and they promised to send ’em on for me right here, and that was last fall, and I’ve never heard any more of ’em, and what I want you should do now is to instruct your representative at Vernis to go round and hev a talk with that man, and ask him what in thunder he means by it, and kinder hint that he’ll hev the Amurrcan Consul in his hair pretty smart, if he don’t look slippier!

    [The Clerk mildly suggests that it would be better to
    communicate directly with the American Consulate, or with
    the tradesman himself.

The A.C. But hold on—­how’m I goin’ to write to that sharp, when I’ve lost his address, and disremember his name?  Can’t you mail a few particulars to your agent, so he’ll identify him?  No. (Disappointed.) Well, I thought you’d ha’ fixed up a little thing like that, anyhow; in my country they’d ha’ done it right away.  Yes, Sir! [He goes away in grieved surprise.

Enter Mr. JAMES PODBURY, age twenty-six; in a City Office; short, fresh-coloured, jaunty; close-cut fair hair, and small auburn moustache.  Not having been to the City to-day, he is wearing light tweeds, and brown boots.