The tall one said, “Oh yes, we do; we’re rather late birds.”
“That’s a nice thing,” I said to myself. “They’ll want the gas on half the night, and somebody will have to sit up and turn it off.”
However, I said nothing to them, but rang the bell, and had the fire lighted, and the gas lighted, and their portmanteaus carried upstairs.
They both pulled their chairs up to the fire, and the short gentleman lit a pipe.
“Aren’t you going to smoke?” he said to the tall gentleman.
“I don’t know,” said the tall gentleman; “a cigar always makes me queer.” Then he turned to me, and said, “Have you got any very mild cigars?”
“Yes, sir,” I said; “I think so. Is there anything else you want?”
“What shall I have?” said the stout gentleman. “Can I have a cup of tea?”
I looked at him. It was past eleven o’clock, and we were just on closing up everything, and the fire was out in the kitchen.
“Well, sir,” I said; “if you particularly wish it—but——”