CULCHARD is on a central ottoman, conscientiously deciphering
the jokes in "Fliegende Blaetter." PODBURY is at the bookcase,
turning over odd TAUCHNITZ volumes._
_The Chaplain's Wife_ (_to the Curate, a new arrival_). Oh, you will
_very_ soon get into all our little ways. The hours here are _most_
convenient--breakfast (_table d'hote_) with choice of eggs or fish and
coffee--really _admirable_ coffee--from eight to nine; midday dinner
at one. Supper at nine. Then, if you want to write a letter, the post
for England goes out at--(_&c., &c._) And on Sundays, eleven
o'clock service (Evangelical, of _course_!) at the--(_&c., &c._) My
husband--(_&c., &c._)
_First Old Maid_ (_looking up from a four days old "Telegraph"_). I
see they are still continuing that very interesting correspondence on
"Our Children's Mouths--and are they widening?" One letter attributes
it to the habit of thumb--sucking in infancy--which certainly ought to
be checked. Now I never _would_ allow any--
_The Chaplain's Wife_. Nor I. But corals are quite as bad. Only this
afternoon I was telling a Lady in this hotel that her little boy would
be much happier with a rubber ring. You get them at a shop in the
Hoch-strasse I can take you to it at any time, or if you like to
mention my name--(_&c.
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