Here he came to an abrupt conclusion, having discovered that the grumbling tenor of the speech was somewhat at variance with the ending he had intended to make to it—viz., “as I do.” Lewis finished it for him.
“As a sensible man should do, I suppose you were going to observe.”
Frere detected the covert satire and shook his fist threateningly at his friend.
“You had better be civil, you know, or I may be tempted to give you the thrashing I have owed you so long. I could not have a better opportunity than now, when you are so weak that you can scarcely walk across the room alone.”
“Perhaps I may be stronger than you are aware of,” returned Lewis; “what do you think about my being able to go out, for instance——?”
“Think,” replied Frere dogmatically; “why, I think that if you attempt it a week hence it will be too soon. Dr. Grabafee says a fortnight, but his is scarcely an unprejudiced opinion; however, I’ll take care you don’t set foot outside this room within a week.”
Lewis turned away to hide a smile, while Frere, still suffering from heat, and not having another available button which could be respectably unfastened, pulled off his neckcloth, and thus relieved, resumed—“Who do you think I have been lecturing this morning?”
Lewis professed his ignorance, and Frere continued—
“Only a certain young lady, in whose proceedings I’ve an idea you take particular interest—one Miss Annie Grant.”
Lewis started as Frere pronounced this name, but recovering himself, asked in an elaborately indifferent tone of voice, “Pray when did this interesting colloquy take place, and what might be the subject thereof?”