Sisters, it seemed to me for a minute as if Cousin E. E. really had got a roaring lion in her dining-room.
While I sat there breathless and wondering if he would have the impudence to repeat that audacious conduct, a soft hand took hold of mine, and a sweet voice whispered in my ear:
"Forgive me, dearest, I did not mean to be rude."
I did not speak, but his penitence touched me with compassion. Softly I pressed the hand, in token of a relenting heart. How could I be hard on a man who meant no real harm, considering the temptation.
He whispered something more, but I could not hear distinctly; for just then a waiter came in with a candle in his hand. Says he, "The gas works are blown up, and all Murray Hill, and more too, is in total darkness."
Then there was a burst of voices; everybody laughed and everybody had something to say, which no one listened to.
"Bring candles," Cousin Dempster sung out.
"But the candlesticks—we have not got one in the house," says his wife.
Then everybody laughed, and Cousin Dempster laughed loudest of all.
"Find something," says he, "for we must have light."