"You'll excuse me, ma'am--"
"Oh yes--I know you are so busy. But I was saying, that you can give me a ticket for my nephew, Mr. Burgh--"
"The tickets are for sale at the hotel," said Tidman gruffly.
"Yes, but my poor nephew is poor. He also has come from foreign parts Major as you did, and just as poor. You must give him a ticket--oh really you must." Miss Pewsey spoke with an emphasis on every other word, and between her teeth as though she was trying to prevent the speech escaping too rapidly. "Now, Major," she coaxed.
"I'll see, ma'am--I'll see."
"Oh. I knew you would." She clasped her hands again, "come and see my Sophia--dear Miss Wharf, and then you can give Clarence--that's my nephew's name, sweet isn't it?--you can give him the ticket. But don't bring him," added Miss Pewsey jerking her old head backward in the direction of Dr. Forge's residence, "he's there."
"Who is there, ma'am?" demanded the Major with a start.
"Why that horrid Mr. Ainsleigh and--"
Miss Pewsey got no further. The Major uttered something naughty under his breath, and taking off his hat with a flourish, bowed his way along the road, pursued by the shrill injunctions of the lady not to forget the ticket.
Tidman walked more rapidly and less jauntily than usual, and stopped at Dr. Forge's gate to wipe his red face, which had now assumed its normal colour.