"So we ought, by Jove!" said Cis Hetherington. "Hallo, Laurence, old boy! no sling or anything?"
"Looks well after it, don't he?" said another; while several old gentlemen looked up from their newspapers, partly in admiration, partly in awe.
"Fire away, gentlemen!" said Laurence. "Be as funny as you please; it's all lost upon me. What the deuce do you mean by 'sling,' Cis?"
"He's been so long away, that he's forgotten the English language," sneered Dollamore.
"O no, he hasn't, Lord Dollamore, as he'd quickly show you, were there the least occasion," said Laurence. "But," added he more quietly, "what is the joke? I give you my honour I don't know what you're talking about."
"A lovely lady and a gallant knight! Bring forth the steed! The accident; the leap; the rescue! Ha, ha! she's saved! Slow music and curtain! Stunnin' draymer it would make. I can introduce you to several enterprising managers if you'd like to tour in the provinces," said jolly Mr. Wisconsin, who spent nearly all his time and two-third's of his income amongst theatrical people.
"Why, how on earth did that story get here?" asked Laurence, on whom the truth was beginning slowly to dawn.
"Here! why, it's all over town--all over England by this time. It's in the papers."
"In the papers! Ah, you're selling me."
"Take it, and read for yourself," said Wisconsin. "Open the paper, and knock it back with your hand--that's the legitimate business."