“No other,” said Mrs. Lammle, laughing airily, and, full of affectionate blandishments, opening and closing Georgiana’s arms like a pair of compasses, “than my little Georgiana Podsnap. So this young Fledgeby goes to that Alfred Lammle and says⁠—”

“Oh ple-e-e-ease don’t!” Georgiana, as if the supplication were being squeezed out of her by powerful compression. “I so hate him for saying it!”

“For saying what, my dear?” laughed Mrs. Lammle.

“Oh, I don’t know what he said,” cried Georgiana wildly, “but I hate him all the same for saying it.”

“My dear,” said Mrs. Lammle, always laughing in her most captivating way, “the poor young fellow only says that he is stricken all of a heap.”