PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 107. SEPTEMBER 1, 1894. [Illustration: "CONTRIBUTIONS THANKFULLY RECEIVED." _Lardy-Dardy Swell (who is uncertain as to the age of Ingénue he is addressing)._ "YOU'RE GOING TO GIVE A BALL. WILL YOU PERMIT ME TO SEND YOU A BOUQUET? AND IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE YOU WOULD LIKE?" _Ingénue._ "O, THANKS! THE BOUQUET WOULD BE _DELIGHTFUL_! AND"--(_hesitating, then after some consideration_)--"I'M SURE MAMMA WOULD LIKE THE ICES AND SPONGE CAKES!"] * * * * * THE TALE OF TWO TELEGRAMS. ANOTHER DOLLY DIALOGUE. (_By St. Anthony Hope Carter._) The redeeming feature of the morning batch of letters was a short note from Lady MICKLEHAM. Her ladyship (and ARCHIE) had come back to town, and the note was to say that I might call, in fact that I _was_ to call, that afternoon. It so happened that I had two engagements, which seemed to make that impossible, but I spent a shilling in telegrams, and at 4.30 (the hour DOLLY had named) was duly ringing at the Mickleham town mansion. "I'm delighted you were able to come," was DOLLY'S greeting. "I wasn't able," I said; "but I've no doubt that what I said in the two telegrams which brought me here will be put down to your account." "No one expects truth in a telegram. The Post-Office people themselves wouldn't like it." DOLLY was certainly looking at her very best. Her dimples (everybody has heard of DOLLY'S Dimples--or is it DOLLY DIMPLE; but after all it doesn't matter) were as delightful as ever. I was just hesitating as to my next move in the Dialogue, which I badly wanted, for I had promised my editor one by the middle of next week. The choice lay between the dimples and a remark that life was, after all, only one prolonged telegram. Just at that moment I noticed for the first time that we were not alone. Now that was distinctly exasperating, and an unwarrantable breach of an implied contract. "Two's company," I said, in a tone of voice that was meant to indicate something of what I felt. "So's three," said DOLLY, laughing, "if the third doesn't count." "_Quod est demonstrandum._" "Well, it's like this. I observed that you've already published twenty or so 'Dolly Dialogues.'" (The dimples at this period were absolutely bewitching, but I controlled myself.) "So it occurred to me that it was my turn to earn an honest penny. Allow me to introduce you. Mr. BROWN, Mr. CARTER--Mr. CARTER, Mr. BROWN." I murmured that any friend of Lady MICKLEHAM'S was a friend of mine, whereat Mr. BROWN smiled affably and handed me his card, from which I gathered that he was a shorthand writer at some address in Chancery Lane. Then I understood it all. I had exploited DOLLY. DOLLY was now engaged in the process of exploiting me. "I hope," I observed rather icily, "that you will choose a respectable paper." "You don't mean that." "Perhaps not. But if we are to have a Dialogue, perhaps we might begin. I have an engagement at six."