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[Ill.u.s.tration: DOMESTIC ECONOMY
MATER.--"Papa, dear, do you know a halfpenny weekly paper called _Flipb.u.t.ts_?"
PATER.--"Never heard of it in my life!"
MATER.--"Well, it offers ninepence a column for answering questions, and they _are_ so difficult, and we _do_ so want to make a little money! Do leave off your novel and help us a little." (_Pater can only write two novels a year, but gets 10,000 for each of them._)]
[Ill.u.s.tration: WHAT INDUCED HIM TO MARRY HER?
HE.--"Look! Here comes young Brummell Was.h.i.+ngton, with his bride. I wonder what on earth induced him to marry her?"
SHE.--"Oh, probably somebody bet him he wouldn't!"]
[Ill.u.s.tration: A CLAIM TO SOCIAL PRECEDENCE
HOSTESS.--"You must give your arm to Miss Malecho, William, and put her on your right, and make yourself as agreeable as you possibly can!"
HOST.--"Why, she's a person of no consequence whatever!"
HOSTESS.--"Oh, yes, she is! She's very ill-natured, and tells the most horrid lies about people if they don't pay her the very greatest attention!"]
[Ill.u.s.tration: AN INTRODUCTION
"Auntie, darling, this is my new friend, Georgie Jones. He _is_ nice.
And isn't it funny, my birthday is the ninth of January, and his is the tenth, so you see we only just escaped being twins!"]
[Ill.u.s.tration: BANJONALITIES
(The Freemasonry of Art.)
HE.--"I beg your pardon--but--er would you be so kind as to give me the 'G'?"
SHE.--"Oh, certainly." (_Gives it._)
HE.--"Thanks, awfully!" (_Bows and proceeds on his way._)]
[Ill.u.s.tration: TEUTONIC SATIRE
HOSTESS.--"Oh, _pray_ don't leave off, Herr Rosencranz. That was a lovely song you just began!"
EMINENT BARYTONE.--"Yes, matame, bot it t.i.t not harmonise viz de cheneral gonferzation. It is in _B vlat_, and you and all your vrents are talking in _G_. I haf a zong in _F_ and a zong in _A sharp_, bot I haf no zong in _G_!"
ACCOMPANIST.--"Ach! Berhaps, to opliche matame, I could dransbose de aggombaniments--ja?"]
[Ill.u.s.tration: REASONING FROM INDUCTION
"Look, Geoffrey! That's Lady Emily Tomlinson. Isn't she pretty?"
"Yes. And I s'pose that's _Lord_ Emily walking with her!"]
[Ill.u.s.tration: THOSE INFELICITOUS SPEECHES
PROFESSOR BOREHAM.--"What! alone, Mrs. Highflyer? Your husband is not ill, I trust!"
MRS. HIGHFLYER (_innocently_).--"Oh no; but he was afraid he might be, if he came here!"]
[Ill.u.s.tration: SOCIAL PERSEVERANCE
MRS. ONSLOW-PUs.h.i.+NGTON.--"What a very singular woman Lady Masham _is_, Professor! I have called on her every Wednesday this month, and the footman (who knows me perfectly) always said she was out, though Wednesday's her day at home, and there were lots of carriages at the door! She never calls on me--never! And when I bow to her, as I always do, she always looks another way, as she did just now. I must really call again next Wednesday."]
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LAST STRAW!
"What's the matter, dearest? You look sad...."
"Oh, everything's going wrong. The children are ill in bed, and nurse has got the influenza, and my husband declares that ruin is staring us in the face, and I've got an unbecoming frock, and altogether I'm thoroughly depressed...."
(_Breaks down._)]
[Ill.u.s.tration: JUST IN TIME FOR A CUP OF TEA]
[Ill.u.s.tration: FELINE AMENITIES
THE MISSES TIPTYLTE.--"Such fun! We're going to Mrs. Masham's fancy ball as Cinderella's ugly sisters--with false noses, you know!"
