“A ladder, mem.... I’ve a ladder in my garden.”
“Tush for your ladder, sir! To leave me here—so heartless and hateful!”
“Heartless, mam! No, no! By means o’ my ladder, y’ ken——”
“Ha’ done wi’ your ladder, sir!”
“But, losh, mam, hoo wull ye come doon wi’oot my ladder?”
“How did I get here, pray?”
“Leddy, ’twas a’ by the inspiration o’ the moment.”
“Then pray be ‘inspired’ again, sir.”
Sir Hector flushed, glanced at her little, helpless feet, her roguish eyes, fumbled with his hat and dropped it; the little Duchess giggled. Then Sir Hector took a deep breath and reached out his arms.