PODB. I dare say; but the scenery just here is so flat that even my friend's remarks won't improve it. CULCH. (_producing his note-book ostentatiously_). I do not propose to attempt it. No doubt you will be more successful in entertaining Miss Trotter than I can pretend to be. I retire in your favour. [_He scribbles._ PODB. Is that our expenses you're corking down there, Culchard, eh? CULCH. (_with dignity_). If you want to know, I am "corking down," to adopt your elegant expression, a sonnet that suggested itself to me. PODB. Much better cork that _up_, old chap--hadn't he, Miss Trotter? [_He glances at her for appreciation._ MISS T. That's so. I don't believe the poetic spirit has much chance of slopping over so long as Mr. Podbury is around. You have considerable merit as a stopper, Mr. Podbury. PODB. I see; I'd better clear out till the poetry has all gurgled out of him, eh? Is that the idea? MISS T. If it is, it's your own, so I guess it's a pretty good one. [PODBURY _shoulders off._ CULCH. (_with his pathetic stop on_). I wish I had more of your divine patience! Poor fellow, he is not without his good points; but I do find him a thorn in my flesh occasionally, I'm afraid. MISS T. Well, I don't know as a thorn in the flesh is any the pleasanter for having a good point. CULCH. Profoundly true, indeed. I often think I could like him better if there were less in him to like. I assure you he tries me so at times that I could almost wish I was back at work in my department at Somerset House! MISS T. I dare say you have pretty good times there, too. Isn't that one of your leading dry goods stores? CULCH. (_pained_). It is not; it is a Government Office, and I am in the Pigeonhole and Docket Department, with important duties to discharge. I hope you didn't imagine I sold ribbons and calico over a counter? MISS T. (_ambiguously_). Well, I wasn't just sure. It takes a pretty bright man to do that where I come from. AN OLD LADY (_who is sitting next to_ PODBURY, _and reading a homeletter to another Old Lady_). "Dear Maria and dear Madeline are close by, they have taken very comfortable lodgings in Marine Crescent. Dear Madeline's frame is expected down next Saturday." SECOND OLD LADY. Madeline's frame! Is anything wrong with the poor girl's spine? FIRST OLD LADY. I never heard of it. Oh, I see, it's _fiance_, my dear. Caroline _does_ write so illegibly. (_Continuing._) "Um--um,--suppose you know she will be maimed----" (perhaps it _is_ her spine after all--oh, _married_, to be sure), "very slowly" (is it slowly or shortly, I wonder?), um, um, "very quiet wedding, nobody but dear Mr. Wilkinson and his hatter." SECOND O. L. The idea of choosing one's hatter for one's best man! I'm surprised Maria should allow it!