“In ... two months ... Sunario.”
They became thoughtful.
But the table, suddenly, unexpectedly, fell over again into Ida’s lap.
“Oh my! Oh dear!” cried the little woman.
The table refused to go on.
“Tired,” it tapped out.
They continued to hold their hands on it.
“Leave off,” said the table.
The doctor, sniggering, laid his short, broad hand on it, as though to compel it.
“Go to blazes!” cried the table, grating and turning. “Bounder!”