Mr. W. — Miss Mullins, look at Miss Ranville: what a picture of good humor.
Miss M. — Oh, you satirical creature!
Mr. W. — Do you know why she is so angry? she expected to dance with Captain Grig, and by some mistake, the Cambridge Professor got hold of her: isn’t he a handsome man?
Miss M. — Oh, you droll wretch!
Mr. W. — Yes, he’s a fellow of college — fellows mayn’t marry, Miss Mullins — poor fellows, ay, Miss Mullins?
Miss M. — La!
Mr. W. — And Professor of Phlebotomy in the University. He flatters himself he is a man of the world, Miss Mullins, and always dances in the long vacation.
Miss M. — You malicious, wicked monster!
Mr. W. — Do you know Lady Jane Ranville? Miss Ranville’s mamma. A ball once a year; footmen in canary-colored livery: Baker Street; six dinners in the season; starves all the year round; pride and poverty, you know; I’ve been to her ball ONCE. Ranville Ranville’s her brother, and between you and me — but this, dear Miss Mullins, is a profound secret — I think he’s a greater fool than his sister.
Miss M. — Oh, you satirical, droll, malicious, wicked thing you!
Mr. W. — You do me injustice, Miss Mullins, indeed you do.
Last updated Sunday, March 27, 2016 at 12:00