Enter steward. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m miserable, steward.”
“Yes, ma’am, take tea and toast and a little porridge.”
Adele, sharply: “Go for Miss Winchester at once, steward. Tell her I’m—I’m——”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Enter Miss Winchester. “Awful sorry you feel so upset, Adele. What can I do for you?”
“I never felt so collapsed in my life,” moaned the sufferer. “Now, tell me, Frank, shall I really die of this or not? Really, I couldn’t stand a joke!” Miss Winchester smiled when she perceived this universal symptom.
“No joke? Not even an antique in Greece, good yet? You know what Ulysses said when he passed this way: ‘You fear you will, then fear you won’t, and don’t’; that’s what he thought, I’m sure.”
“Frank Winchester, you’re positively heartless! You make me feel like throwing both you and Ulysses through that port-hole. Oh, dear, dear! How badly I do feel!”
Miss Winchester did what she could to quiet matters. “No, Adele, you certainly won’t die on purpose, not just yet.”