Culch. Eagle again!  Now mind, PODBURY, no going back after this. It must be Nuremberg now.

Podb. All right!  And now allow me to have the pleasure of restoring your pocket-book and note-case.  They did fall out on the Niederwald, and it was a good job for you I was behind and saw them drop.  You must really be more careful, dear boy.  Ain’t you going to say “ta” for them?

Culch. (relieved).  I’m—­er—­tremendously obliged.  I really can’t say how.—­(Recollecting himself.) But you need not have taken advantage of it to try to do me out of going to Nuremberg—­it was a shabby trick!

Podb. Oh, it was only to get a rise out of you.  I never meant to keep you to it, of course.  And I say, weren’t you sold, though?  Didn’t I lead up to it beautifully? (He chuckles.) Score to me, eh!

Culch. (with amiable sententiousness).  Ah, well, I don’t grudge you your little joke if it amuses you.  Those laugh best who laugh last.  And it’s settled now that we’re going to Nuremberg.

    [Miss TROTTER and her father have come out from the
    Speisesaal doors, and overhear the last speech.

Mr. Trotter (to Culchard).  Your friend been gettin’ off a joke on you, Sir?

Culch. Only in his own estimation, Mr. TROTTER.  I have nailed him down to going to Nuremberg, which, for many reasons, I was extremely anxious to visit. (Carelessly.) Are we likely to be there when you are?

Miss T. I guess not.  We’ve just got our mail, and my cousin, CHARLEY VAN BOODELER, writes he’s having a real lovely time in the Engadine—­says it’s the most elegant locality he’s struck yet, and just as full of Amurrcans as it can hold; so we’re going to start out there right away.  I don’t believe we shall have time for Nuremberg this trip.  Father, if we’re going to see about checking the baggage through, we’d better go down to the depot right now. [They pass on.

Culch. (with a very blank face and a feeble whistle).  Few-fitty-fitty-fitty-fa-di-fee-fee-foo; few—­After all, PODBURY, I don’t know that I care so much about Nuremberg.  They—­they say it’s a good deal changed from what it was.

Podb. So are you, old chap, if it comes to that.  Tiddledy-iddlety-ido-lumpty-doodle-oo!  Is it to be Constance after all, then?

Culch. (reddening).  Er—­I rather thought of the Engadine—­more bracing, eh?—­few-feedle-eedle-oodle—­

Podb. You artful old whistling oyster, I see what you’re up to!  But it’s no go; she don’t want either of us Engadining about after her.  It’s CHARLEY VAN STICKINTHEMUD’s turn now!  We’ve got to go to Nuremberg.  You can’t get out of it, after gassing so much about the place.  When you’ve once decided, you know, it’s final!

Culch. (with dignity).  I am not aware that I wanted to get out of it.  I merely proposed in your—­(PODBURY suddenly explodes.) What are you cackling at now?