“I’m sure you play or sing, Mr. Carey,” she said archly. “I can see it in your face.”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Don’t you even recite?”
“I have no parlour tricks.”
The buyer in the ‘gentleman’s hosiery’ was a well-known reciter, and he was called upon loudly to perform by all the assistants in his department. Needing no pressing, he gave a long poem of tragic character, in which he rolled his eyes, put his hand on his chest, and acted as though he were in great agony. The point, that he had eaten cucumber for supper, was divulged in the last line and was greeted with laughter, a little forced because everyone knew the poem well, but loud and long. Miss Bennett did not sing, play, or recite.