"No."
"Did Mr. Blemish make a speech?"
"What did he say?"
"All sorts of things."
"Nicholas, you are enough to vex a saint. Tell me instantly, what did Mr. Blemish say?"
Instead of replying, Mr. Nuttall groaned, and screwed himself up tight in the bed-clothes.
"That's right," said Mrs. Nuttall, tugging at the sheets. "I'd take up the whole bed, if I were you!" Mr. Nuttall partially unscrewed himself. "I'm much obliged, I'm sure! And now, Nicholas, answer me one question. Are we going to spend Christmas at your brother's Station?"
"Yes. I have told you so a dozen times."
"I wanted to make certain," she said, sweetly. "Good night, Nicholas."
"Oh, good night," he said, somewhat savagely, muttering between his clenched teeth, "I wish the man who invented Caudle lectures had been at the bottom of the Red Sea first!"