“Triplet, madam--James Triplet, of 10, Hercules Buildings, Lambeth. Occasional verses, odes, epithalamia, elegies, dedications, squibs, impromptus and hymns executed with spirit, punctuality and secrecy. Portraits painted, and instruction in declamation, sacred, profane and dramatic. The card, madam” (and he drew it as doth a theatrical fop his rapier) “of him who, to all these qualifications adds a prouder still--that of being, “Madam, “Your humble, devoted and grateful servant, “JAMES TRIPLET.” He bowed in a line from his right shoulder to his left toe, and moved off. But Triplet could not go all at one time out of such company; he was given to return in real life, he had played this trick so often on the stage. He came back, exuberant with gratitude. “The fact is, madam,” said he, “strange as it may appear to you, a kind hand has not so often been held out to me, that I should forget it, especially when that hand is so fair and gracious. May I be permitted, madam--you will impute it to gratitude rather than audacity--I--I--” (whimper), “madam” (with sudden severity), “I am gone!” These last words he pronounced with the right arm at an angle of forty-five degrees, and the fingers pointing horizontally. The stage had taught him this grace also. In his day, an actor who had three words to say, such as, “My lord's carriage is waiting,” came on the stage with the right arm thus elevated, delivered his message in the tones of a falling dynasty, wheeled like a soldier, and retired with the left arm pointing to the sky and the right hand extended behind him like a setter's tail. Left to herself, Mabel was uneasy. “Ernest is so warm-hearted.” This was the way she put it even to herself. He admired her acting and wished to pay her a compliment. “What if I carried him the verses?” She thought she should surely please him by showing she was not the least jealous or doubtful of him. The poor child wanted so to win a kind look from her husband; but ere she could reach the window Sir Charles Pomander had entered it. Now Sir Charles was naturally welcome to Mrs. Vane; for all she knew of him was, that he had helped her on the road to her husband. _Pomander._ “What, madam! all alone here as in Shropshire?” _Mabel._ “For the moment, sir.” _Pomander._ “Force of habit. A husband with a wife in Shropshire is so like a bachelor.” _Mabel._ “Sir!” _Pomander._ “And our excellent Ernest is such a favorite!” _Mabel._ “No wonder, sir!” _Pomander._ “Few can so pass from the larva state of country squire to the butterfly nature of beau.” _Mabel._ “Yes” (sadly), “I find him changed.” _Pomander._ “Changed! Transformed. He is now the prop of the 'Cocoa-Tree,' the star of Ranelagh, the Lauzun of the green-room.” _Mabel._ “The green-room! Where is that? You mean kindly, sir; but you make me unhappy.”