"Why, you sat on the sofa, sir," squeaked Jenks.
"Then there must be a whole nest of wasps concealed in that sofa!" shouted Scotch. "I was stung, or I was stabbed—I don't know which."
"Why, I'm sure I cannot imagine what the matter with you can be," fluttered the widow, in distress.
"Well, I don't know what is the matter with your old sofa."
He spoke so loudly that she understood him, and she immediately turned up her nose.
"Old sofa, sir—old sofa! There is nothing the matter with that sofa. Your language is surprisingly offensive, sir."
"Te-he, he, he!" giggled Jenks. "Now you're getting it, Scotch! You've put your foot in it."
"Beg your pardon—beg your pardon," roared the little man. "I did not mean any offense, Mrs. Cobb, but I assure you there must be a dagger concealed in that sofa, for some pointed weapon entered my person in a most painful manner. If you will excuse me, I'll take this chair, for I really do not dare sit down there again."
The widow gave a sniff.
"Your courage is very limited," she said. "Now, I do love to admire a man with courage enough to——"