“No, my dear, I’m listening.”
“Now, look here; I have my plans about Polly.”
“Yes, dear.”
“And, mind this, if that fellow Humphrey attempts to approach her again—”
“Poor Humphrey!” sighed the butler.
“Ah!” exclaimed his wife, “what was I about to marry such a milksop? Did you know that he was making up to her?”
“I thought he cared for the girl, my dear.”
“You fool! you idiot, Lloyd! and not to tell me. Have you no brains at all?”
“I’m afraid not much, my dear,” said the butler, pitifully: “what little I had has been pretty well muddled with trouble, and upset, and dread, and one thing and another.”
“Lloyd!” exclaimed the housekeeper, “if ever I hear you speak again like that—”