“Will you let my daughter speak to you?”
“Prussian blasphemer,” responded Mr. Lavender, shifting his position so as to be further away, and clasping instead of the table leg some soft silken objects, which he was too excited to associate with Aurora, “you have no daughter, for no woman would own one whose hated presence poisons this country.”
“Well, well,” said the Major. “How shall we get him out?”
Hearing these words, and believing them addressed to a Prussian guard, Mr. Lavender clung closer to the objects, but finding them wriggle in his clasp let go, and, bolting forward like a rabbit on his hands and knees, came into contact with the Major's head. The sound of the concussion, the Major's oaths, Mr. Lavender's moans, Blink's barking, and the peals of laughter from Aurora made up a noise which might have been heard in Portugal. The situation was not eased until Mr. Lavender crawled out, and taking up a dinner-knife, rolled his napkin round his arm, and prepared to defend himself against the German Army.
“Well, I'm damned,” said the Major when he saw these preparations; “I am damned.”
Aurora, who had been leaning against the wall from laughter, here came forward, gasping:
“Go away, Dad, and leave him to me.”
“To you!” cried the Major. “He's not safe!”
“Oh yes, he is; it's only you that are exciting him. Come along!”
And taking her father by the arm she conducted him from the room. Closing the door behind him, and putting her back against it, she said, gently: