'Lor!' says Rosa, shrugging her shoulders, with a little laugh of
wonder.

'Do you object,' Edwin inquires, with a majestic turn of his eyes
downward upon the fairy figure: 'do you object, Rosa, to her
feeling that interest?'

'Object? my dear Eddy! But really, doesn't she hate boilers and
things?'

'I can answer for her not being so idiotic as to hate Boilers,' he
returns with angry emphasis; 'though I cannot answer for her views
about Things; really not understanding what Things are meant.'

'But don't she hate Arabs, and Turks, and Fellahs, and people?'

'Certainly not.' Very firmly.

'At least she MUST hate the Pyramids? Come, Eddy?'

'Why should she be such a little--tall, I mean--goose, as to hate
the Pyramids, Rosa?'

'Ah! you should hear Miss Twinkleton,' often nodding her head, and
much enjoying the Lumps, 'bore about them, and then you wouldn't
ask. Tiresome old burying-grounds! Isises, and Ibises, and
Cheopses, and Pharaohses; who cares about them? And then there was
Belzoni, or somebody, dragged out by the legs, half-choked with
bats and dust. All the girls say: Serve him right, and hope it
hurt him, and wish he had been quite choked.'