Page:Stubbs's Calendar or The Fatal Boots.djvu/114

98 "Look, my dear," says he, "here is an old friend of yours, His Excellency Lort Cornvallis!—Who would have thought such a nobleman vood turn shoeblack? Gaptain Stobbs, here is your former flame, my dear niece, Miss Grotty—how could you, Magdalen, ever leaf soch a lof of a man? Shake hands vid her, Gaptain;—dere, never mind de blacking;" but Miss drew back.

"I never shake hands with a shoeblack," says she, mighty contemptuous.

"Bah! my lof, his fingers vont soil you, don't you know he has just been vitevashed?"

"I wish, uncle," says she, "you would not leave me with such low people."

"Low, because he cleans boots? de Gaptain prefers pumps to boots I tink, ha! ha!"

"Captain, indeed! a nice Captain," says Miss Crutty, snapping her fingers in my face, and walking away; "a Captain, who has had his nose pulled! ha! ha!"—And how could I help it? it wasn't by my own choice that that ruffian Waters took such liberties with