“Don’t you think it very dangerous to cross the lake in a small boat?” struck in the Infliction, at his elbow.
“Not if the weather’s fine.”
“Ah, but don’t you think storms come up very suddenly on this lake?”
“Oh, Lord,” said Phil in an undertone, “the Gadfly is getting her sting into old Fordham.”
“Be quiet, she’ll hear you,” replied Alma, trying to hide a laugh. “Besides, I want to enjoy the fun.”
But while Fordham was ruminating over a suitable extinguisher, a mild clergyman on the opposite side of the table struck in eagerly, and requested to know if that was really the case, and further manifested such a desire for information on that particular subject that the Infliction turned to him with reinvigorated purpose, and the rest were spared. The good man had only arrived that evening, and little knew what floodgates he was opening.