“And it wasn’t acted!”
“No, we were getting it up before Christmas,” said Gerald, “and then—”
He looked towards Clement, whose illness had then been at the crisis.
“Very inconsiderate of me,” said Clement, smiling, “as the old woman said when her husband did not die before the funeral cakes were stale. But could it not come off at the festival?”
“Now,” said Gerald, “that the boy is gone, I may be allowed a glass of beer. Is that absurdity to last on here?”
“Adrian’s mother would not let him come on any other terms,” said Mrs. Grinstead.
“Did she also stipulate that he was never to see a horse? Quite as fatal to his father.”
“You need not point the unreason, but consider how she has suffered.”
“You go the way to make him indulge on the sly.”
“True, perhaps,” said Clement, “but I mean to take the matter up when I know the poor little fellow better.”