_Mr. Trotter_ (_to Culchard_). Your friend been gettin' off a joke on
you, Sir?

_Culch._ Only in his own estimation, Mr. TROTTER. I have nailed him
down to going to Nuremberg, which, for many reasons, I was extremely
anxious to visit. (_Carelessly._) Are we likely to be there when you
are?

_Miss T._ I guess not. We've just got our mail, and my cousin,
CHARLEY VAN BOODELER, writes he's having a real lovely time in the
Engadine--says it's the most elegant locality he's struck yet, and
just as full of Amurrcans as it can hold; so we're going to start out
there right away. I don't believe we shall have time for Nuremberg
this trip. Father, if we're going to see about checking the baggage
through, we'd better go down to the _dépôt_ right now. [_They pass
on._

_Culch._ (_with a very blank face and a feeble whistle_).
Few-fitty-fitty-fitty-fa-di-fee-fee-foo; few--After all, PODBURY, I
don't know that I care so much about Nuremberg. They--they say it's a
good deal changed from what it was.

_Podb._ So are _you_, old chap, if it comes to that.
Tiddledy-iddlety-ido-lumpty-doodle-oo! Is it to be Constance after
all, then?

_Culch._ (_reddening_). Er--I rather thought of the Engadine--more
_bracing_, eh?--few-feedle-eedle-oodle--