“Not a drop. We must go in. You haven’t seen your father yet, and after that you must have your bath.”
“And after that you must send your maid away, so that we can get a few minutes’ sensible conversation,” said Peter.
“I’ll begin it now,” said she. “Sometimes, you know, your bath goes to your head, and you’re not quite as serious as you might be.”
“Say I’m drunk and have done with it,” suggested he.
“Very well; sometimes your bath makes you tipsy. But while you’re sober, I want you to promise me something.”
“Shall I like it?” asked Peter prudently. “It isn’t to spend a week with Uncle Abe or anything of that kind?”
“Nothing of that kind. Poor Uncle Abe! You’ll like it. At least, you’ll find you’ll like it; you’ll know it does you good.”
“That’s not the same thing,” objected he. “It does me good to get up bright and early, so as to start for town without hurrying, but I hate it.”
Silvia laughed.
“It will relieve you of that to some extent,” she said. “Oh, do be quick and promise instead of making such a fuss!”