“That would not hide the patch upon your forehead, stupid!” responded Mrs. Jenkins. “I believe you must have bumped upon the edge of every stair in the organ-loft, as you came down, to get so many wounds!” she continued crossly. “If you ever do such a senseless trick again, you shan’t stir abroad without me or the maid at your back, to take care of you; I promise you that!”
“I have combed my hair over the place on my forehead!” civilly replied Mr. Jenkins. “I don’t think it shows much.”
“And made yourself look like an owl! I thought it was nothing less than a stuffed owl coming in. Why can’t you wear your hat? That would hide your crown and your forehead too.”
“I did think of that; and I dare say Mr. Galloway would allow me to do it, and overlook the disrespect in consideration of the circumstances,” answered Jenkins. “But then, I thought again, suppose the dean should chance to come into the office to-day?—or any of the canons? There’s no telling but they may. I could not keep my hat on in their presence; and I should not like to take it off, and expose the plasters.”
“You’d frighten them away, if you did,” said Mrs. Jenkins, dashing some water into the teapot.
“Therefore,” he added, when she had finished speaking, “I think it will be better to put on this handkerchief. People do wear them, when suffering from neuralgia, or from toothache.”
“Law! wear it, if you like! what a fuss you make about nothing! If you chose to go with your head wrapped up in a blanket, nobody would look at you.”
“Very true,” meekly coughed Mr. Jenkins.
“What are you doing?” irascibly demanded Mrs. Jenkins, perceiving that of two slices of bacon which she had put upon his plate, one had been surreptitiously conveyed back to the dish.
“I am not hungry this morning. I cannot eat it.”