“So that is really your advice?” inquired Mr. Eden, feebly and regretfully.
“Yes, your reverence, that is my advice.”
Mr. Eden rose in a moment like an elastic spring, and whirled round in front of Evans. “And this is my answer—RETRO SATANAS!” shouted he, with two eyes flashing like a pair of sabers in the sun.
“Mercy on us,” roared Evans, recoiling so hastily that he rolled over a chair, “what is that?” and he sat upon the floor a long way off, with eyes like saucers, and repeated in a whisper, “what is that?”
“A quotation,” replied the other grimly.
“A quotation! now only think of that” said Evans, much relieved. “Sounded like cussing and swearing in Latin.”
“Come here, my good friend, and sit beside me.”
Evans came gingerly.
“Well, but ye mustn't thunder at me in Latin any more.”
“Well, I won't.”