“You’re getting such a fine gent now. Ant’ny,” said Revitts to me one morning; “but, if so be as you wouldn’t mind, Mary and me’s made up our minds to have a bit of a trip out, a kind of s’rimp tea, just by way of celebrating my being made sergeant, and getting well again.”
“Why, my dear old Bill,” I cried, “why should I mind your having a trip? Where are you going?”
“Well, you see, it’s a toss up, Ant’ny; Gravesend’s best for s’rimps, but Hampton Court’s the nicer sorter place for a day, and Mary ain’t never been.”
“Then go to Hampton Court,” I said.
“Hampton Court it is, Mary,” he said. “That settles it.”
“And I hope you’ll both enjoy yourselves.”
“What, won’t you come?” said Revitts blankly.
“Come! what—with you?” I said.
“Why, of course, Ant’ny. You don’t suppose we should care about going alone. Won’t you come?”
“You didn’t ask me.”