“He’s afraid thad he bight have to sped sub buddy,” remarked A. Fish, Esq.
“Nothing of the sort,” replied the Doctor-in-Law, turning very red though.
“Well, don’t waste time talking about it; let’s go if we are going,” said the Rhymester; and so, as I also had some correspondence to attend to, it was arranged that the Wallypug, the Rhymester, and A. Fish, Esq., should go for a little stroll by themselves. I had some doubts in my own mind as to the advisability of letting them go alone, but they promised not to go beyond Kensington Gardens, and to wait for me there just inside the gates.
After they had gone I settled down to my letter-writing, and was getting along nicely when the Doctor-in-Law interrupted me with:
“I say, I wish you would let me have about twenty sheets of note-paper, will you, please?”
“Twenty!” I exclaimed in surprise.
“Yes, twenty,” said the Doctor-in-Law. “Or you had better make it a quire while you are about it.”
I thought the quickest way to get rid of him was to give him the paper, so I got up and got it for him.
“And a packet of envelopes, please,” he said, as I handed it to him.
“Anything else?” I asked rather sarcastically.