“Ah! Crampton,” said Van Heldre starting, “sent off the message?”
“Yes, sir, I’ve sent off the message,” said the old man sternly. “Pray finish what you were saying, sir. Never mind my feelings.”
“What I was saying, Crampton? I did not say anything.”
“Oh, yes, you did, sir; you wished Crampton had been—what, sir—buried too, like the trouble?”
“My good fellow—my dear old Crampton! surely I did not say that aloud.”
“How could I have heard it, sir, if you hadn’t? I only did my duty.”
“Yes, yes, of course, of course, Crampton. Really I am very, very sorry.”
“And only just before I left the room you were complaining about people digging up the old trouble.”
“Come, Crampton, I can deny that. I apologise for thinking aloud, but it was you who spoke of digging up the old trouble.”
“Ah! well, it doesn’t matter, sir. It was my birthday just as you were at your worst. Seventy-five, Mr Van Heldre, sir, and you can’t be troubled with such a blundering old clerk much longer.”