MRS. B. Certainly. [_Holding glass before COX, who ties his cravat._] Why, I do declare, you've had your hair cut. COX. Cut? It strikes me I've had it mowed! It's very kind of you to mention it, but I'm sufficiently conscious of the absurdity of my personal appearance already. [_Puts on his coat._] Now for my hat. [_Puts on his hat, which comes over his eyes._] That's the effect of having one's hair cut. This hat fitted me quite tight before. Luckily I've got two or three more. [_Goes in at L., and returns, with three hats of different shapes, and puts them on, one after the other--all of which are too big for him._] This is pleasant! Never mind. This one appears to me to wabble about rather less than the others--[_Puts on hat,_]--and now I'm off! By the bye, Mrs. Bouncer, I wish to call your attention to a fact that has been evident to me for some time past--and that is, that my coals go remarkably fast-- MRS. B. Lor, Mr. Cox! COX. It is not the case only with the coals, Mrs. Bouncer, but I've lately observed a gradual and steady increase of evaporation among my candles, wood, sugar, and lucifer matches. MRS. B. Lor, Mr. Cox! you surely don't suspect me? COX. I don't say I do, Mrs. B.; only I wish you distinctly to understand, that I don't believe it's the cat. MRS. B. Is there anything else you've got to grumble about, sir? COX. Grumble! Mrs. Bouncer, do you possess such a thing as a dictionary? MRS. B. No, sir. COX. Then I'll lend you one--and if you turn to the letter G, you'll find "Grumble, verb neuter--to complain without a cause." Now that's not my case, Mrs. B., and now that we are upon the subject, I wish to know how it is that I frequently find my apartment full of smoke? MRS. B. Why--I suppose the chimney-- COX. The chimney doesn't smoke tobacco. I'm speaking of tobacco smoke, Mrs. B. I hope, Mrs. Bouncer, _you're_ not guilty of cheroots or Cubas? MRS. B. Not I, indeed, Mr. Cox. COX. Nor partial to a pipe? MRS. B. No, sir. COX. Then, how is it that-- MRS. B. Why--I suppose--yes--that must be it-- COX. At present I am entirely of your opinion--because I haven't the most distant particle of an idea what you mean. MRS. B. Why the gentleman who has got the attics, is hardly ever without a pipe in his mouth--and there he sits, with his feet upon the mantel-piece-- COX. The mantel piece! That strikes me as being a considerable stretch, either of your imagination, Mrs. B., or the gentleman's legs. I presume you mean the fender or the hob. MRS. B. Sometimes one, sometimes t'other. Well, there he sits for hours, and puffs away into the fire-place. COX. Ah, then you mean to say that this gentleman's smoke, instead of emulating the example of all other sorts of smoke, and going _up_ the chimney, thinks proper to affect a singularity by taking the contrary direction? MRS. B. Why--