Miss T. (soothingly).  Well, I guess there’s no harm done.  I didn’t feel like being in any imminent danger of perishing that way in your society.  You’re real high-toned and ever so improving, and that’s better than tickling; every time.  And I want you to show me round this collection and give me a few notions.  Seems to me there was considerable sand in WIERTZ; sort of spread himself around a good deal, didn’t he?  I presume, though, he slept bad, nights.

(She makes the tour of the Gallery, accompanied by CULCHARD, who admires her, against his better judgment, more and more.) ...  I declare if that isn’t your friend Mr. PODBURY just come in!  I believe I’ll have to give you up to him.

Culch. (eagerly).  I beg you will not think it necessary.  He—­he has a guide already. He does not require my services.  And, to be plain, my poor friend—­though, an excellent fellow according to his—­ah—­lights—­is a companion whose society occasionally amounts to a positive infliction.

Miss T. Well, I find him too chinny myself, times.  Likely he won’t notice us if we don’t seem to be aware of him.

    [They continue to inspect the canvases.

A Belgian Guide (who has made an easy capture of PODBURY at the Hotel entrance).  Hier now is a shdrainch beecture.  “De toughts and veesions of a saivered haid.”  Fairsst meenut afder degapitation; de zagonde; de tirt.  Hier de haid tink dey vant to poot him in a goffin.  Dere are two haids—­von goes op, de udder down.  Haf you got de two?  Nod yet?  No?

Podbury (shaking his head sagaciously).  Oh, ah, yes.  Capital!  Rum subject, though.

Guide. Yais, vary magnifique, vary grandt, and—­and rom also!  Dees von rebresents Napoleon in hail.  De modders show him de laigs and ahums of dair sons keeled in de vars, and invide him to drink a cop of bloodt.

Podb. Ha, cheery picture that!

Guide. Cheery, oh, yais!  Now com and beep troo dis ’ole. (PODBURY obeys with docility.) You see?  A Mad Voman cooking her shildt in a gettle.  Hier again, dey haf puried a man viz de golera pefore he is daid, he dries to purst de goffin, you see only de handt shdicking oudt.

Podb. The old Johnny seems full of pretty fancies. (He looks through another peephole.) Girl looking at skeleton.  Any other domestic subjects on view? (He suddenly sees Miss TROTTER and CULCHARD with their backs to him.) Hal—­lo, this is luck!  I must go to the rescue, or that beggar CULCHARD will bore her to death in no time. (To Guide.) Here, hold on a minute. (Crosses to CULCHARD, followed by Guide.) How d’ye do, Miss TROTTER?  Doing the Wild Wiertz Show, I see.  Ah, CULCHARD, why didn’t you tell me you were going—­might have gone together.  I say, I’ve got a guide here.

Culch. (drily).  So we perceive—­a very sensible plan, no doubt, in some cases, my dear fellow.