‘Yes—who’s that? What is it?’
‘The clock has struck nine,’ returned the secretary, with meekly folded hands. ‘You have slept well? I hope you have slept well? If my prayers are heard, you are refreshed indeed.’
‘To say the truth, I have slept so soundly,’ said Lord George, rubbing his eyes and looking round the room, ‘that I don’t remember quite—what place is this?’
‘My lord!’ cried Gashford, with a smile.
‘Oh!’ returned his superior. ‘Yes. You’re not a Jew then?’
‘A Jew!’ exclaimed the pious secretary, recoiling.
‘I dreamed that we were Jews, Gashford. You and I—both of us—Jews with long beards.’
‘Heaven forbid, my lord! We might as well be Papists.’
‘I suppose we might,’ returned the other, very quickly. ‘Eh? You really think so, Gashford?’
‘Surely I do,’ the secretary cried, with looks of great surprise.