“I was not aware, sir, that my spirits could be matter of remark,” said Augustus, haughtily.
“And why not? You're no highness, royal or serene, that one is obliged to accept any humor you may be in, as the right thing. You are one of us, I take it.”
“A very proud distinction,” said he, gravely.
“Well, if it's nothing to crow, it's nothing to cry for! If the world had nothing but top-sawyers, Bramleigh, there would be precious little work done. Is that clock of yours, yonder, right—is it so late as that?”
“I believe so,” said Augustus, looking at his watch. “I want exactly ten minutes to four.”
“And the train starts at four precisely. That's so like me. I 've lost my train, all for the sake of paying a visit to people who wished me at the North Pole for my politeness.”
“Oh, Mr. Cutbill,” said Ellen, deprecatingly.
“I hope, Mr. Cutbill, we are fully sensible of the courtesy that suggested your call.”
“And I 'm fully sensible that you and Miss Ellen have been on thorns for the last half-hour, each muttering to himself, 'What will he say next?' or worse than that, 'When will he go?”'
“I protest, sir, you are alike unjust to yourself and to us. We are so thoroughly satisfied that you never intended to hurt us, that if incidentally touched, we take it as a mere accident.”