"Why—going to prison, of course," said Pen.
"I don't know," replied Bob, staring. "Don't you see it's a joke?"
"Yes, I see, of course," said Pen. "Why, the man said it was a lark, and it was a parrot. I think it's a very good story, Bob."
And Bob went away wondering whether it was or not.
"I'll tell it to Baker," he said, thoughtfully.
He turned up at nine o'clock that night with Titania, who was in a state of mind requiring instant attention from a physician.
"Good heavens, what is it, I wonder," said Titania. "Robert, I wonder what it is? But what do you know? I am in a tremble; I am sure she will do or say something even more scandalous than she has done yet. I put it all on Bradstock; to make him her guardian was a fatal error. My nerves—but I have none. I quiver like a jelly; I shake; I must be pale as a ghost. Why should we take so much trouble over anything? I must think of myself. I will go to bed and stay there for a week, and send for Dr. Lumsden Griff."
But Bradstock was as calm as a philosopher without anything in the objective world to worry him.
"What does it matter?" he inquired. "Does anything matter?"
Brading, whom no one had seen for many months, as he had spent the whole winter in a yacht down the Mediterranean, was perfectly good-humoured.