"Excuse me, Miss Whitburn, I prefer my bed to ruining my digestion. Nothing is more indigestible than an ice at night. Good night. Lady Dove begs you will go and rest, Lady Southbourne," and Miss Grossman disappeared from this world of folly.
Toney had seized on Lewis Waycott.
"Can you swallow unlimited ices? they really are the very best; Pups always said my digestion was one of the strongest he ever knew, but——"
"Toney, we have never had our dance."
"Then let's have one now. I do love dancing, that's the only accomplishment that ever made friends with me. It's poetry, isn't it?"
Lewis thought so as Toney and he waltzed round the big barn.
"I hope you have had a happy birthday," said Lewis in a pause.
"Just about perfect. Could I have been happier, as you and the Fabers, and Dr. Latham, and uncle, and Trick are all here, and you have all been so good and kind, and then Pups' picture! All through the evening I have been putting my hand up to stroke it. It was an inspiration on your part and I shall never be grateful enough."
"I—I don't want gratitude—I—want——"
"Oh, what? Do let me give it to you," said Toney eagerly.