Agatha’s lip curled. “Oh, no,” returned she ironically; “an attendant for the lunatic.”
This Miss Connaughton ignored. “I came to you, Mr. Avery,” she said, “hoping you could recommend someone.”
Mr. Avery pursed his lips thoughtfully.
“I want an educated mind for this particular duty,” added Miss Connaughton, with meaning.
Agatha rippled another laugh. “Auntie wants a nice, little tattletale to listen and report—a sort of afternoon-tea Pinkerton.”
“I still insist,” declared Miss Connaughton.
Agatha’s wrath blazed up anew. “Very well,” she said decisively. “If I must have someone tagging at my heels night and day, night and day” (jab, jab), “the only escort I shall accept will be deaf and dumb.”
Miss Connaughton threw up her hands. So did Mr. Avery: he clapped one over his mouth.
“Deaf and dumb!” gasped Miss Connaughton weakly.
“Yes,” said Agatha triumphantly. “On that condition, I’ll agree.”