“What had she said?”
“Asked him to look at a horse.”
“Did she know he was coming home?”
“Yes.”
“Had she sent any message?”
“Well—yes. To desire that her Algerine costume should be sent up. Whew!” as Allen flung himself out of the room. “How have I put my foot in it, mother?”
“You don’t mean that that was all?”
“Every jot! What, has she not written? The abominable little elf! I’m coming.” And he shrugged his shoulders as Allen, who had come round to the open window, beckoned to him.
“He was absolutely grappled by a trembling hand, and a husky voice demanded, ‘What message did she really send? I can’t stand foolery’.”
“Just that, Allen—to Emma. Really just that. You can’t shake more out of me. You might as well expect anything from that Chinese lantern. Hold hard. ‘Tis not I—”