“No, my dear, only that wicked, idle man is so fast asleep that we cannot wake him.”
“Never mind,” said the old lawyer, who had followed Gertrude out into the hall. “Better let him have his sleep out. Come, my dear, and have pity on me.”
“Yes, Mr Hampton, we will not wait any longer. Denton, pray see that some fresh breakfast is ready on a tray, to bring up directly your master comes down.”
“Yes, miss, I will,” said the old woman; and then in an undertone to Mrs Hampton, as the old lawyer said something to Gertrude: “Do, do, pray, ma’am, try and stop it. I’d sooner help to lay the poor dear out for her last sleep than help to dress her to go to church with Master George.”
Mrs Hampton went down the flight of stairs to the breakfast-table, looking exceedingly comic.
Hers was a peculiar face at the best of times; and now it was at its worst, for her spirit was greatly troubled on Gertrude’s behalf, and she was trying to smile and look cheerful.
Her husband saw it and made matters worse.
“Gertrude, my dear,” he said in a whisper his wife could hear, “for goodness’ sake give her a cup of tea; she’s bubbling over with acidity.”
“No, I am not, Hampton, and don’t be absurd.”
“Certainly not, my dear. Excuse me, Miss Gertie, may I begin?”