"Yes, you," said Simon. "He called you venerable several times."
"Several times?"
"Yes, four or five times."
"Said so to the jury?"
"Yes."
"What did you do?"
"Nothing."
"Simon Rump, you are a brute!" said the angel.
"But, my duck," said Simon, "I could not——"
"Don't call me your duck! Duck, indeed! Simon Rump, you are a brute! You have no feeling. What! stand there and hear that bald-headed booby call me venerable! Well, I'll give Mr. Pate a piece of my mind. Venerable! venerable!" And the mother of the cherubs rushed from the room in a state of unangelic excitement, while Simon Rump seated himself in his big arm-chair and looked doleful and desolate.