“Nonsense! It will not hurt you to tell him about a battle, and you are just the sort of’ fellow to give him other ambitions than highroad robbery.”
“Rid your mind of the hope that you are going to fob your hell-born babe off on me!” recommended Gideon.
But the Duke only smiled at him with deep, if rather sleepy, affection, and murmured: “ Kind Gideon! Not really a hell-born babe, you know, just a trifle wild! I daresay he will mind you tolerably well. I am glad you are come to Bath!”
He said the same thing when he took himself off to bed, and found Nettlebed waiting to attend on him. Nettlebed had contrived, in some inexplicable way, to make his bedchamber much more comfortable, and there would be no denying that it was extremely pleasant to find candles already burning there, the fire made up, his nightshirt laid out in readiness, and a devoted servitor to pull off his boots, pour out hot water for him, and tenderly divest him of his raiment. He said: “It has done me a great deal of good to be without you, Nettlebed, for it has made me appreciate you as I never did before! Can anything be done, do you think, to make me respectable enough to be seen abroad?”
“Now, don’t you worry your head over that, your Grace!” Nettlebed admonished him. “I will soon have your coat fit to wear, never fear!”
“Thank you. I brought some new neckcloths today, so—”
“Your Grace won’t have to wear them,” said Nettlebed repressively.
“I was afraid you would not quite like them,” said the Duke, in a meek voice.
Nettlebed was not deceived; he was still to much chastened to treat this demure mischief as it deserved, but he shook his head at the Duke, and said severely, as he drew the curtains round the bed: “Ay, right well your Grace knew I wouldn’t like them, and a good thing his lordship isn’t here to see the case you’re in! Now, you go to sleep, your Grace, and no more of your tricks!”