"But the details? How did the ladies look?"
"They looked as usual, for all I saw," replied Jan.
"What did they wear?"
"Wear? Gowns, I suppose."
"Oh, Mr. Jan! Surely you saw better than that! Can't you tell what sort of gowns?"
Jan really could not. It may be questioned whether he could have told a petticoat from a gown. Miss Amilly was waiting with breathless interest, her lips apart.
"Some were in white, and some were in colours, I think," hazarded Jan, trying to be correct in his good nature. "Decima was in a veil."
"Of course she was," acquiesced Miss Amilly with emphasis. "Did the bridemaids—"
What pertinent question relating to the bridemaids Miss Amilly was about to put, never was known. A fearful sound interrupted it. A sound nearly impossible to describe. Was it a crash of thunder? Had an engine from the distant railway taken up its station outside their house, and gone off with a bang? Or had the surgery blown up? The room they were in shook, the windows rattled, the Misses West screamed with real terror, and Jan started from his seat.
"It can't be an explosion of gas!" he muttered.