“It's part of the Conspiracy, Love! One must have an alias, you know—”
“Oh, an alias, is it? Well! And next, what did you get this dagger for? Come, no evasions! You ca'n't deceive me!”
“I got it for—for—for—” the detected Conspirator stammered, trying her best to put on the assassin-expression that she had been practising at the looking-glass. “For—”
“For what, Madam!”
“Well, for eighteenpence, if you must know, dearest! That's what I got it for, on my—”
“Now don't say your Word and Honour!” groaned the other Conspirator. “Why, they aren't worth half the money, put together!”
“On my birthday,” my Lady concluded in a meek whisper. “One must have a dagger, you know. It's part of the—”
“Oh, don't talk of Conspiracies!” her husband savagely interrupted, as he tossed the dagger into the cupboard. “You know about as much how to manage a Conspiracy as if you were a chicken. Why, the first thing is to get a disguise. Now, just look at this!”
And with pardonable pride he fitted on the cap and bells, and the rest of the Fool's dress, and winked at her, and put his tongue in his cheek. “Is that the sort of thing, now.” he demanded.
My Lady's eyes flashed with all a Conspirator's enthusiasm. “The very thing!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands. “You do look, oh, such a perfect Fool!”