"Mr. Walkingshaw would like a pint bottle of champagne," said she.
The junior partner stared first at her and then at his sisters. They in turn opened their eyes.
"Is it the—er—usual thing?" he inquired.
"The doctor said nothing about it. Who would ever imagine he was going to want champagne again?"
"Is it ever given?" asked Andrew cautiously.
"Oh, I know it's given," interposed Mrs. Ramornie decisively. "George's uncle drank it up to five minutes before he died."
George's uncle had been a very bad example. At the same time he had been a baronet, and Andrew swithered between the dissoluteness of the request and a certain stylishness it undoubtedly possessed.
"Mr. Walkingshaw is very determined for it," said the nurse.
"Very well," he answered. "I'll get it for you."