(_Whom Mr. Punch, with his characteristic sense of justice and
fair-play, is proud to recognise as no less representative than his
earlier types--although he could wish he had the pleasure of
encountering them a little more frequently._)
SCENE--_A large Branch Post Office. The weather is oppressively warm,
and the Public slightly irritable in consequence. Behind the counter are
three Young Ladies, of distinctly engaging appearance, whom we will
call_ Miss GOODCHILD, Miss MEEKIN, _and_ Miss MANNERLY, _respectively.
As the Curtain rises_, Miss GOODCHILD _is laboriously explaining to an
old lady with defective hearing the relative advantages of a Postal and
a Post Office Order_.
_The Old Lady._ Just say it over again, so that a body can hear ye. You
young Misses ought to be taught to speak _out_, 'stead o' mumbling
the way you do. _Why_ can't ye give me a Postal Order for
five-and-fourpence, and a'done with it, eh?
_Miss Goodchild (endeavouring to speak distinctly)._ A _Post Office_
Order will be what you require. See, you just fill in that form, and
then I'll make it out--it's quite simple.
_Old Lady._ Yes, I dessay, _anything_ to save yourselves a little
trouble! You're all alike, you Post-Office young women. As if I couldn't
send five-and-fourpence to my boy down at Toadley in the 'Ole, without
filling up a parcel o' nonsense!
_Person behind (with a talent for grim irony of a heavy order)._ Can you
inform me whether there are any arrangements for providing luncheon for
the Public--because, as it appears I am to spend the entire _day_
here----
_Miss Goodchild (sweetly)._ I'm so very sorry to keep you waiting, Sir.
As soon as _ever_ I have attended to this lady!----
_Old Lady._ If you _call_ it attending--which I don't myself. There's
your form.
_Miss Goodchild._ Oh, but you haven't told me whom you want the order
made out to!
_Old Lady._ I did--I told you it was my son. If you hadn't been
woolgathering, you'd ha' heard me. I'm sure _I_ speak plain enough!
_Miss Goodchild (laughing good-humouredly)._ Oh, yes, you speak _very_
plainly--but I want the name in full, please, to put in the
instructions.
_The Person with the Irony._ When you have _quite_ concluded your little
conversation----
_Miss Goodchild (as she fills in the order)._ Now, Sir, what can I do
for you?
_The Person with the Irony._ Well, I should be glad to be informed what
you mean by requiring me to take out a licence for a dog that died of
distemper a fortnight after I had him--and I had a warranty with him
too!
_Miss Goodchild._ Oh, but that isn't my department, you see. You must
go----(_gives him elaborate instructions as to the place he is to apply
to._)
_The Person._ Ah, if you had had the common courtesy to tell me all that
before, I should not have wasted my time like this! [_Exit in wrath._
_A Feeble Lady (to_ Miss MEEKIN). Oh, I just thought as I was passing
by--may I put my umbrella here--and these parcels? thank you. I daresay
you can tell me. Does the Mail for New Heligoland touch at Port Sandune?
They go every other Friday, don't they? or is it changed to alternate
Tuesdays now? and will there be anyone on board who would look after a
box of Japanese rats if I sent them?--they'll want feeding, or
_something_ I suppose.
[Miss MEEKIN _disentangles these inquiries, and answers them
categorically to the test of her knowledge, information and belief_.
_Feeble Lady (disappointed)._ Oh, I _quite_ thought you would know _all_
about it! Then you _wouldn't_ send the rats, you think?
_Miss Meekin._ No, I don't _think_ I should send the rats, without
someone in charge.
_Feeble Lady._ Oh, well, but I call it very unsatisfactory--did I put my
umbrella down in this corner, or not? Oh, (_slightly annoyed_) you have
it ... there must be another parcel, do see if you haven't put it away
by mistake! No? Then it will be all right about the rats?
[_Exit vaguely._
_A Conversational Man (to_ Miss MANNERLY). _Warm_, isn't it?
_Miss Mannerly._ _Very_ warm. What can I do for you?
_Conv. Man._ Wait a bit. Give a man time to get his breath ... phew!
(_In an injured tone._) Why, the mercury in this office of yours must be
over eighty at least!
_Miss Mannerly._ I daresay ... you wanted----?
_Conv. Man._ Daresay! Haven't you got a thermometer--you can easily look
for yourself!
_Miss M._ I'm afraid there isn't one. If you will tell me what you came
for?
_Conv. Man._ Ah, you wouldn't be in such a hurry if I was a nice-looking
young chap! You'd be ready enough to talk all day then--_I_ know what
you young ladies are like!
_Miss M._ Perhaps we are not all alike--and I really have no time to
talk to anybody.
[_Turns away and weighs a parcel for somebody else._
_Conv. M._ So that's the way you treat a civil remark, is it! I tell you
what it is--you young women want taking down; a little showing up will
do you _good_! Perhaps you haven't seen _Punch_ lately? Well, you look
out--I could give _Punch_ some wrinkles if I liked! Ah, I thought _that_
would make a change in you! What do I want? Well, 'pon my soul I forget
what I came in for. I'll look in when you're in a better temper.
[_Exit with the consciousness of having scored._
_A Testy Man (to_ Miss MEEKIN). Look here, this is simply scandalous!
I've brought it to show you. My little girl in the country sent home
some silkworms to her sister in a light paper-box. They were marked
"fragile, with care"--and _this_ is how they arrived! (_Thrusts a
crushed packet, unpleasantly stained, upon_ Miss MEEKIN'S _notice._)
That's your _stamping_, that is!
_Miss Meekin._ I'm sure I'm very sorry.
_Testy M._ Sorry! What's the use of _that?_ The silkworms are _dead_!
dead through culpable negligence on the part of someone in this
office--and if you'll give me a sheet of paper, I'll let the
Postmaster-General know what I think of you here. (Miss MEEKIN _supplies
him with paper and an envelope; he dashes down a strong-worded screed
with a gold pencil-case_.) There, you'll hear more of that--I'll bring
these silkworms home to somebody, if I have to do it through Parliament!
good-day to you.
_Miss Meekin (as he is opening the door)._ Sir, one moment!
_Testy Man._ No, I'll listen to no apologies--disgraceful,
_disgraceful!_
_Miss Meekin (a little roused)._ I wasn't _going_ to apologise--only to
tell you you've left your pencil-case on the counter.
_Testy Man._ Oh--er--have I? much obliged. (_Disarmed._) And you may
give me back that letter--I'll think over it!
_Miss Goodchild (to_ Mrs. QUIVERFUL--_a regular client_). Oh, Mrs.
QUIVERFUL, do you know, you never put any stamp on that letter to
Wurra-Gurra? I saw it was in your handwriting.
_Mrs. Quiverful._ Dear, _dear_ me! how careless--and my boy expecting to
hear as usual! So you couldn't send it?
_Miss G._ Oh, yes, it _was_ sent--I thought you wouldn't like to miss
the Mail.
_Mrs. Q._ But he'll have to pay double at his end--he'll think I grudge
the expense, poor boy!
_Miss G. (timidly)._ I--I thought you'd rather it went stamped, so I--I
took the liberty of stamping it myself.
_Mrs. Q._ Did you? Then you're a darling, and I don't care what unkind
things _Mr. Punch_ chooses to say about you--there!
_Mr. Punch (in background)._ If they were all like her, he would never
have said any unkind things at all, Madam. _O si sic omnes!_
_Mrs. Q. (in some alarm)._ A--quite so, I'm sure. What a very singular
person! [_Scene closes in._
* * * * *
[Illustration: AN APPEAL FROM SCIENCE.
"AM I NOT WORTH OF AS MUCH CONSIDERATION AS MUSIC AND GEOLOGY! WHY
SHOULD NOT _I_ HAVE A MUSEUM?"]
* * * * *
HORATIAN MOTTO FOR MR. STANSFELD & CO.--"_Gens humana ruit per vetitum
nefas._" "The humane gent plunges headlong into impropriety."
* * * * *
THE BEST "DRESS IMPROVER."--A Pretty Girl.
* * * * *