Braintop threw dawn the pen. "I really do not know what to say," he
remarked, rising in distress.

"I naver had such a desire to shake anny man in all my life," said Mrs.
Chump, dropping to her chair.

The posture of affairs was chimed to by the monotonous bell. After
listening to it for some minutes, Mrs. Chump was struck with a notion
that Braintop's sinfulness in working on a Sunday, or else the shortness
of the prayer he had put up to gain absolution, was the cause of his lack
of ready wit. Hearing that he had gloves, she told him to go to church,
listen devoutly, and return to luncheon. Braintop departed, with a
sensation of relief in the anticipation of a sermon, quite new to him.
When he next made his bow to his hostess, he was greeted by a pleasant
sparkle of refreshments. Mrs. Chump herself primed him with Sherry,
thinking in the cunning of her heart that it might haply help the
inspiration derived from his devotional exercise. After this, pen and
paper were again produced.

"Well, now, Mr. Braintop, and what have ye thought of?" said Mrs. Chump,
encouragingly.

Braintop thought rapidly over what he might possibly have been thinking
of; and having put a file of ideas into the past, said, with the air of a
man who delicately suggests a subtlety: "It has struck me, ma'am, that
perhaps 'Girls' might begin very well. To be sure 'Dear girls' is the
best, if you would consent to it."

"Take another glass of wine, Mr. Braintop," Mrs. Chump nodded. "Ye're
nearer to ut now. 'Garls' is what they are, at all events. But don't