“Yes, my lord.”
“Do you think you have spelled their names right?”
“Where it was impossible, my lord, I substituted an English appellation, hidentical in meaning.”
“Have you entered and described my first interview with Christie Johnstone, and somebody something?”
“Most minutely, my lord.”
“How I turned Mr. Burke into poetry—how she listened with her eyes all glistening—how they made me talk—how she dropped a tear, he! he! he! at the death of the first baron—how shocked she was at the king striking him when he was dying, to make a knight-banneret of the poor old fellow?”
“Your lordship will find all the particulars exactly related,” said Saunders, with dry pomp.
“How she found out that titles are but breath—how I answered—some nonsense?”
“Your lordship will find all the topics included.”
“How she took me for a madman? And you for a prig?”