“Yes, sir, I said mutiny; but after Maude is married—then!”
The door closed behind her, and Lord Barmouth looked piteously up at his little son.
“You have got me into a devil of a scrape, Tom, my boy,” he faltered.
“Never mind, gov’nor. Tip that up. The old girl left us this.”
“But—but it is champagne, Tom.”
“All the better, gov’nor. Here’s to you.”
Lord Barmouth hesitated for a few moments, and then raised his glass.
“Your health, my dear boy,” he said.—“Yes, that’s a very nice glass of wine. I haven’t tasted champagne for a couple of months.”
“Then you shall taste it again,” said Tom. “Now, I mean to go it. Gov’nor, you should come and dine with me to-night, and we’d try and forget all about old Maude, only I have no money.”
“But I have, my boy—ten pounds.”