  For both sexes at various ages AT FIVE. She. Will my new doll open and shut her eyes? He. Off to a party! Will they have mince-pies? AT TEN. She. Will pretty Master Smith be there this time? He. Will Uncle take me to the pantomime? She. Will Mamma let me wear my hair in curl? He. I say, how many l's are there in "girl"? AT FIFTEEN. She. Will he give me or Fan the first round dance? He. Will our chaps at the wickets have a chance? She. Will my next dress be made with longer skirts. He. Hoisted? O crikey! Wonder if it hurts? She. Did that sly Fanny hear him call me "dear"? He. I wonder if this "weed" will turn me queer? Employer (to applicant for situation). "And then I am very particular about my cellars; you understand wine, I presume?" Butler. "Hin my last sitiwation, sir, I was considered a very tolerable judge o' wine, sir." AT TWENTY. She. Will Papa think dear Percy's "screw" too small? He. Does this moustache mean to come on at all? She. Was it my eyes with which he seemed so struck? He. Is it a "pass," I wonder, or a "pluck"? She. I wonder whether He will "pop" tonight? He. I wonder whether She will answer right? AT TWENTY-FIVE. She. Shall I, oh shall I, have a chance this season? He. A stiffish total! Will there be a breeze on? She. Quite pale! Shall I put on the tiniest touch? He. Most brilliant! Wonder if she rouges much? She. Not a bad figure! Has he any tin? He. Backed "Slowboy" for a pot! D'ye think he'll win? She. Long dress bill! Shall I get into hot water? He. Can I stave off old Snip another quarter? Hostess. "Don't you sing, Mr. Binks?" Binks. "No—er—I—hum—er——" Hostess. "Oh, I'm afraid you wouldn't be heard in this large room. Thanks, so much!" [Terrible disappointment of Binks, who was simply dying to recite "Tam o' Shanter." AT THIRTY. She. Will the new curate be engaged or not? He. Close thing! Shall I have nerve to make the shot? She. Is flirting really now a sort of sinning? He. Is my neat middle parting really thinning? She. Now shall I get a partner for this dance? He. Old Boodles leaving! Shall I have a chance? She. Engaged at last! Now will he keep a carriage? He. That's done! How shall I like the yoke of marriage? A Serious Case.—Cook (reading from daily paper). "Last night's official statement shows that there are fifty thousand cases of influenza in the metropolis." Nervous Parlourmaid. "Oh, Mary! And how many are there in a case?" AT FORTY. She. When will the major come up to the scratch? He. Fat, plain and forty! Shall I risk the match? She. Is that a tinge of red about my nose? He. Does the grey show—unless one looks too close? She. Could I get on those "sixes" at a pinch? He. Must I allow the vest another inch? She. Did Lady Linda mean that as a snub? He. Will they blackball me at the Buffers' Club? She. Is the dear fellow right about confession? He. How stands my chance if they dissolve this session. AT FIFTY. She. Will Flora hook the wealthy cotton-spinner? He. Must I drop drinking port wine after dinner? She. Not meet! Great Heavens! Am I getting stout? He. By Jingo, was that twinge a touch of gout? She. Did he mean anything by that warm glance? He. Shall I have "go" to get through this round dance? She. Will it be Brighton or the Continent? He. My dear, can that last cheque be wholly spent? Violinist (one of trio of amateurs who have just obliged with rather lengthy performance). "Well, we've left off at last!" Hostess. "Thank you so much!" AT SIXTY. She. Will Lady Jane before those Jones's bow? He. Shall I, I wonder, get my knighthood now? She. Doctor, dear doctor, what does ail my back? He. Will Lord Fitz-Faddle give that berth to Jack? She. Is Nelly really sweet on that young Brown? He. Are Costa Ricas going up or down? She. He seemed so sparkish! Is it quite too late? He. Dull, this! Am I too old a bird to mate? OUTRAGE ON GOLDSMITH (By a sleepy housemaid, concerning missus) She rings us up at 7, till 10 she lies— "More bent to raise the wretched, than to rise." New Year's Fete and Gala.—"Well, Jane, did you have a good time at home? Was the village very gay?" "Yes, thank you, mum. But we was rather disappointed, as the policemen's feet didn't come off!" Cutting!—Host. "What bin did you put that Marsala in, Muggles?" New Butler. "In the—ah—dust-bin, sir!!" Social Gardening.—Cultivating an acquaintance. Q. What's the difference between a fraudulent Bank Director and a Servants' Registry Office? A. The former cooks books, the latter books cooks. The Sublime.—The fashions of this season. The Ridiculous.—The fashions of last season. MUFFS AND MARQUISATES Lord M's a muff; but shrewd mammas determine The best French Exercises for Girls.—A series of practical studies in cookery À la FranÇaise. Mistress. "Well now, what can you cook?" Applicant. "Oh, I can cook any-think, mum." Mistress. "What about entrÉes?" Applicant. "Yes, I can do ontrays, mum." Mistress. "Can you do a vol-au-vent?" Applicant (doubtfully). "Well, mum, in my last place there was once some talk about a vollervong, but it fell through." Clerical Æsthetics.—Fair Parishioner. "And do you like the pulpit, Mr. Auriol?" The New Curate. "I do not. Er—it hides too much of the figure, and I like every shake of the surplice to tell!" Finis. Mr Punch carrying candle, retiring to bed BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS LONDON AND TONBRIDGE. Transcriber's Notes Typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations in spelling, hyphenation and accents are as in the original. |
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