"Talk? That's nothing!"—he uttered a snort. "Why, hang it, madam, he's drunk! Can't you have a little Christian charity and put yourself in his place? The poor boy doesn't know what he's saying!"
She looked up with a head jerk. "That's it—that's just what makes it so awful," she sniveled; "the revelations, you know!"
"Revelations, fiddlesticks!" champed the judge, and he jerked his head to the butler. "Go on, Wilkes! What has Mr. Billings said that's queerer than—er—usual?"
Wilkes rubbed his neck. "Well, sir, to my thinking, it ain't so much what he's said that's queer—leastwise, it wasn't at first—as what he did. First off, there was his stalling about taking his bath, which was on-usual, for Perkins says, generally speaking, he's right keen for it—more 'specially when he's rather well soused—" Wilkes coughed. "H'm! I beg your pardon, sir! Anyhow, this time he wouldn't have it at all; no, sir! He was very excited about it—kinder out of his head, I may say—and buttonholed me and Perkins and went on a whole lot about only the under man being—no, let me see, lower man was what he said—the lower man being an—an"—Wilkes' brows contracted as he strained for it—"an am—h'm—funny I can't remember that word—a amfibby something—Well, anyhow, he said he never used water ex-ternally."
A penetrating moan from the handkerchief startled us.
"Then—then he never uses it at—at all!" came in a muffled wail.
The judge's teeth glittered at her in one united row; then he jerked a nod to Wilkes. "Go on!" he commanded shortly.
But the butler was glooming sullenly at the fiery head that topped the bundle of black.
"He does, too!" he protested. "'Cause Perkins asked him if he wouldn't like some ice-water and he said he would if he might drink it his own way."
"His own way—um—well?"