“Because she said Mr Pottles would come over and see you, and you do snub me so for interfering.”
“Humph!” ejaculated Edward again.
“What, you are going to have the Seven Bells, then?” said the housemaid. “O, I am glad; it will be nice! And you’re going to be married, after all.”
“Don’t you be in a hurry,” growled Edward. “We ain’t gone yet, and perhaps we shan’t go at all; so now then. There goes the bell; now, then, clear off. Missus is going to bed.”
“Did you fasten the side-door, Mr Ed-dard?” said the housemaid.
“Slipped the top bolt, that’s all,” said the footman, as he went to answer the bell.
“Let’s lay them bits of lace out on the lawn, Cook, and leave ’em all night; the frost ’ll bleach ’em beautiful,” said the housemaid.
“Ah, so we might,” said Cook; and taking some wet twisted-up scraps of lace from a basin, cook and housemaid tied their handkerchiefs round their necks, placed their aprons over their heads, and ran down a passage, unbolted the side-door, and went over the gravel drive to lay the lace upon the front lawn.
“I’ll pop out and take them in when I light the breakfast-room fire,” said the housemaid. “My, what a lovely night! it must be full moon.”
“Scr-r-r-r-r-r-r-eech—screech—screech!” went the cook.