‘To drink?’ returned Miss Mowcher, stopping to slap his cheek.

‘To doctor his own moustachios with, you know. There was a woman in the shop — elderly female — quite a Griffin — who had never even heard of it by name. “Begging pardon, sir,” said the Griffin to Charley, “it’s not — not — not ROUGE, is it?” “Rouge,” said Charley to the Griffin. “What the unmentionable to ears polite, do you think I want with rouge?” “No offence, sir,” said the Griffin; “we have it asked for by so many names, I thought it might be.” Now that, my child,’ continued Miss Mowcher, rubbing all the time as busily as ever, ‘is another instance of the refreshing humbug I was speaking of.