Ransey brought out his father’s bottle—a bottle that had lain untouched for a long time indeed—and his father’s glass, and the flunkey drank his “spot,” and really seemed to enjoy it.
Ransey opened the door for him.
“Convey my best thanks to Miss Scwagley,” he said, “and inform her that we will be ree—joiced to receive her, and that Miss Tansey and myself will not fail to return the call at a future day. Good mo’ning.”
“Good mawning, I’m shuah.”
And the elegant flunkey lifted his hat and bowed.
Ransey ran in, gave the leveret stew just a couple of stirs to keep it from burning, then threw himself into his father’s chair, stretched out his legs, and laughed till the very rafters rang.