This is what he hears:--_
[Illustration: "I am only a Cowboy."]
_Miss Fresia Blud_. (_in a tone of lady-like apology_).
I am only a Cowboy--
[_Several Ladies put up their glasses, and examine her critically, as
if they had rather expected this confession. Sudden burst of Society
Chatter from without._
_Society Chatter_. How d'ye do?... Oh, but her parties never _are_!...
How are you?... No, I left her at ... Yes, he's somewhere about ...
Saw you in the Row this mornin'.... Are you doing anything on ----?...
Oh, _what_ a shame!... No, but _doesn't_ she now?... No earthly use
trying to get in at present ... &c., &c.
_Miss Fresia B._ (_beginning again, with meek despair, a little
louder_).
I am only a Cowboy; reckless, rough, in an unconventional suit of clothes;
I hain't, as a rule, got much to say, and my conversation is mostly oaths.
[_Cries of "Ssh!" intended, however, for the people outside,
who are chattering harder than ever._
When the cackle of females strikes my ear--
_Society Chatter_ (_as before_).
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