A Buffer, suddenly astounding the other three, by detaching himself, and asserting individuality, inquires: “How discovered, and why?”

“Ah! To be sure. Thank you for reminding me. Venerable parent dies.”

Same Buffer, emboldened by success, says: “When?”

“The other day. Ten or twelve months ago.”

Same Buffer inquires with smartness, “What of?” But herein perishes a melancholy example; being regarded by the three other Buffers with a stony stare, and attracting no further attention from any mortal.

“Venerable parent,” Mortimer repeats with a passing remembrance that there is a Veneering at table, and for the first time addressing him⁠—“dies.”

The gratified Veneering repeats, gravely, “dies”; and folds his arms, and composes his brow to hear it out in a judicial manner, when he finds himself again deserted in the bleak world.