‘What?’ said the old gentleman, in a state of excitement.
‘I only said it was a fine afternoon,’ repeated Mr. Eversley.
‘What do you say?’ cried the old gentleman. ‘I cannot hear what you say. You must speak louder.’
Mr. Eversley repeated his striking observation once more. But the old gentleman did not catch what was said; so, raising his voice to a stentorian pitch, he called to his wife who was at the other end of the room.
‘Harriet, come here, my dear. Mr. Eversley is making some observation; it is important, and I cannot hear what he says.’
By this time the attention of the whole room had been attracted to the old gentleman and Mr. Eversley, and there was a breathless silence as Mrs. Drummond made her way across the room and said, with a pleasant smile,
‘Will you be so kind as to tell me what it was that you said to my husband? He is so very deaf, but he cannot bear not hearing what is said to him, and he will never be satisfied now until he is made to hear what it was.’
Mr. Eversley, his face turning crimson at the predicament in which he was placed, repeated in a low tone that he had casually remarked it was a fine afternoon.
Mrs. Drummond turned to her husband, who was exhibiting every sign of impatient curiosity, and, making a speaking-trumpet of her hands, shouted with great deliberation:
‘My—love—Mr. Eversley—says—it is—a fine—afternoon.’