Dick Gatling (of H.M.  Gunboat “Weasel").  Brought him over my last cruise from Colombo.  No end of a jolly little beast—­bites like the—­like blazes, you know!

Miss Stella (to her Cousin).  Now, DICK, I won’t have you taking away poor Jacko’s character like that.  He’s only bitten BINNS—­and, well, there was the gardener’s boy—­but I’m sure he teased him. You won’t tease him, will you, Mr. HEADNOTE?

The Curate.  I—­I shouldn’t dream of it, Miss STELLA,—­on the contrary, I—­(To himself.) Was it quite discreet to let myself be drawn into this?  Shall I not risk lowering my office by publicly associating myself with a—­a Monkey?  I feel certain the Vicar would disapprove strongly.

Dick (to Colonel KEMPTON).  Drawn your animal yet, Sir?

The Colonel (heatedly).  Yes, I have—­and I wish I’d kept out of this infernal tomfoolery.  Why the mischief don’t they leave a man in peace and quietness on a hot afternoon like this?  Here am I, routed out of a comfortable seat to go and drive a confounded White Rabbit, Sir!  Idiotic, I call it!

The Curate.  Pardon me, Colonel KEMPTON; but if you object to the Rabbit, I would not at all mind undertaking it myself—­and you could take my Monkey—­

The Colonel.  Thanks—­but I won’t deprive you.  A Rabbit is quite responsibility enough for me!

The Curate (to himself, disappointed).  He’s afraid of a poor harmless Monkey—­and he an Army man, too!  But I don’t see why I—­

Miss Gussie Grissell.  Oh, Mr. HEADNOTE, isn’t it ridiculous!  They’ve given me a Kitten!  It makes me feel too absurdly young!

The Curate (eagerly).  If you would prefer a—­a more appropriate animal, there’s a Monkey, which I am sure—­(To himself, as Miss G. turns away indignantly).  This Monkey doesn’t seem very popular—­there must be someone here who—­I’ll try the American Lady—­they are generally eccentric. (To Mrs. HEBER K. BANGS.) I hope Fortune has been kind to you, Mrs. BANGS?

Mrs. Bangs.  Well, I don’t know; there are quadrupeds that can trot faster over the measured mile than a Tortoise, and that’s my animal.

The Curate (with sympathy).  Dear me!  That is a trial, indeed, for you!  But if you would prefer something rather more exciting, I should be most happy, I’m sure, to exchange my Monkey—­

Dick Gatling (bustling up).  Hallo, what’s that?  No, no, Mrs. BANGS—­be true to your Tortoise.  I tell you he’s going to romp in—­AEsop’s tip, don’t you know?  I’ve backed you to win or a place.  I say, what do you think I’ve drawn—­the Mutton!  Just my luck!

The Curate.  DICK, just come this way a moment—­I’ve a proposition to make; it’s occurred to me that the Monkey would feel more—­more at home with you, and, in short, I—­