Inexpressibly outraged by such a question concerning one for whom she had a proprietary reverence, Mrs. Petty answered acidly:
“Oh dear no! He is much wiser than some people!”
“It was only that he mentioned the last man and the last dollar, you know,” said the young lady, as if to herself, “but, of course, that's no real sign.” And she uttered a sudden silvery laugh.
Mrs. Petty became aware of something tickling her left ear, and turning round, found her master leaning out beside her, in his dressing-gown.
“Leave me, Mrs. Petty,” he said with such dignity that she instinctively recoiled. “It may seem to you,” continued Mr. Lavender, addressing the young lady, “indelicate on my part to resume my justification, but as a public man, I suffer, knowing that I have committed a breach of decorum.”
“Don't you think you ought to keep quiet in bed?” Mrs. Petty heard the young lady ask.
“My dear young lady,” Mr. Lavender replied, “the thought of bed is abhorrent to me at a time like this. What more ignoble fate than to die in, one's bed?”
“I'm only asking you to live in it,” said the young lady, while Mrs. Petty grasped her master by the skirts of his gown.
“Down, Blink, down!” said Mr. Lavender, leaning still further out.
“For pity's sake,” wailed the young lady, “don't fall out again, or I shall burst.”