Sinopsis

“Con-found those organs!” said the Earl of Barmouth. “And frustrate their grinders,” cried Viscount Diphoos. “They are such a nuisance, my boy.” “True, oh sire,” replied the viscount, who had the heels of his patent leather shoes on the library chimney-piece of the town mansion in Portland Place. He had reached that spot with difficulty, and was smoking a cigar, to calm his nerves for what he called the operation. “Tom, my boy.” “Yes, gov’nor.” “If her ladyship faints—” “If what?” cried the viscount, bringing his heels into the fender with a crash.