“Well, you wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for me,” he shouted.
“No, nor you wouldn’t be there if it hadn’t been for me,” she retorted.
For three solid hours he was kept trussed up like a fowl ready for the oven, and at the end of that time the game came to an end.
“I’m going to bed now,” said Jane, “and in half an hour the butler will come in and untie you. He will help you to your feet and when he says skiddoo to you I hope you will understand what he means. Good night.”
For thirty minutes the clock ticked monotonously and the back of the man on the floor was beginning to ache horribly. At last the silvery chime announced the half hour and then Henderson stepped softly in.
One by one he untied the fastenings and it was a tough job in view of the fact that a woman had made them. After that he helped the visitor to his feet. He assisted him on with his coat, handed him his hat, and together they walked, without either saying a word, to the hall door. The butler swung it solemnly open, slowly waved his hand, bowed deeply from the hips and said:
“Skid-doo, sir.”
“Go to hell,” came back the answer, as Harry shot down the stairs.
“How did he take it?” asked Jane the next morning.
“He took it all right, ma’am, but he was very uncivil, ma’am.”