At the Denis

Madam: I have a hallowed tooth that suffer me grately.

Sir: Sly down in that legchair Madam and open your gorble wide —your mouse is all but toothless.

Madam: Alad! I have but eight tooth remaining (eight tooth left).

Sir: Then you have lost eighty three.

Madam: Impossyble.

Sir: Everydobby knows there are foor decisives two canyons and ten grundies, which make thirsty two in all.

Madam: But I have done everything to save my tooth.

Sir: Perhumps! but to no avague.

Madam: Ah! why did I not insult you sooner?

Sir: To late, it must be now or neville.

Madam: You will pull it out for me then?

Sir: No, madman, I will excrete it.

Madam: But that is very painfull.

Sir: Let me see it —Crack! there it be madarce.

Madam: But sir I wished to keep (was anxious to keep) that tooth.

Sir: It was all black and moody, and the others are too.

Madam: Mercy —I will have none to eat with soon.

Sir: A free Nasty Heath set is good, and you will look thirty years jungle.

Madam: (Aside) Thirty years jungle; (Aloud) Sir I am no catholic, pull out all my stumps.

Sir: O.K. Gummy.