"Where did you meet this person?" demanded Mrs. Stiffson of her husband, who, now that the coffee was cooling, began to feel chilly, and was busily engaged in trying to extract the moisture from his garments.
"Where did you meet her?" repeated his wife.
"In—in the bath-room," responded Mr. Stiffson weakly.
Mrs. Stiffson gasped and stood speechless with amazement.
"I heard a splashing," broke in Cissie Boye, "and I peeped in,—I only just peeped in, really and really."
"An' then we 'ad a little friendly chat in the 'all," explained Bindle, "an' after breakfast we was goin' to talk things over, an' see 'ow we could manage so that you didn't know."
"Your bath-room!" roared Mrs. Stiffson at length, the true horror of the situation at last seeming to dawn upon her. "My husband in your bath-room! Jabez!" she turned on Mr. Stiffson once more like a raging fury. "You heard! were you in this creature's bath-room?"
Mr. Stiffson paused in the process of endeavouring to extract coffee from his exterior.
"Er—er——" he began.
"Answer me!" shouted Mrs. Stiffson. "Were you or were you not in this person's bath-room?"