“Well, have it then,” he said, slipping it off.
The baby, pleased with the glittering toy, set up a cry of delight, and Bootles took the opportunity of slipping out. He entered the anteroom with a very rueful face, finding it pretty much as he had left it. Lacy was the first to catch sight of him.
“Halloo, Bootles, what’s the mat-tah?” he asked. “Is your head worse?”
“My head? Oh, I forgot all about it,” Bootles replied. “But, I say, I’m in a mess. There’s a baby in my room.”
“A WHAT?” they cried, with one voice.
“A baby,” repeated Bootles, dismally.
“Al—ive?” asked Lacy, with his head on one side.
“Alive! Oh, very, very much so, and means to stop, for it has brought its entire wardrobe and a letter of introduction with it,” holding the letter for any one to take who chose. It was Lacy who did so, and he asked if he should read it up.
“Yes, do,” said Bootles, dropping into a chair with a groan. “Perhaps some one else will own to it.”
So Lacy read the letter in his ridiculous drawl of a voice, and ceased amid profound silence—“Fa-ah-well!”