“I think, dear,” she said, “you really ought to put off that dose for a day or two. We might go to Ramsgate to-morrow and engage apartments, then, if you liked, we need not return here. I could come back and fetch the luggage, if you gave Mrs. Wilcox a week’s notice; she would never suspect anything. We can pretend we want change of air.”
“I do wish you were not so silly, Prudence,” said Miss Semaphore with acerbity. “Do you forget that I post-dated the cheque for that woman to allow of my experimenting to-night, and she wants the money immediately. Anyone but you would see that once she has cashed it, we cannot get it back, whether the Water proves to be any good or not. It is essential to test it at once, and stop payment of the draft, if necessary.”
“But they talk so here, I am afraid—”
“Well, really you are very rude. This is the second time you have said something like that. To hear your tone one might think I was a hundred at least. Oh! I know very well what you mean. It is all part of your ridiculous fussiness. It will make very little difference. The dose is one tablespoonful for every ten years, and having reached the proper age, a tea-spoonful at intervals keeps one at it. Now to-night I shall take very, very little, just enough to take off a year or two, so you may make yourself quite easy. No one will see any difference.”
“I wonder if it tastes bad,” said Prudence, after a short silence.
“Not at all,” said Miss Semaphore more graciously, “I have already dipped my finger in and laid a drop upon my tongue, and it tasted just like common water.”
“There can be no doubt but that it is real?”
“Look at Toutou,” was the convincing answer.
“Do you know I’m a little bit afraid of it,” said Miss Prudence. “I wonder how it will feel, will it make one very queer or not. Don’t think me selfish, Augusta, but I’m glad you are going to try it first, you have so much more courage than I.”
Miss Semaphore merely grunted in reply.