“What time is it?” asked her lord, who had not rightly understood.
“Charles the Second’s. Do you know who Charles the Second was?” asked Mouse with a malicious little laugh.
“Him as had his head took off?” asked Mr. Massarene.
Her laugh became a melodious scream of delight.
“Oh, you are too delightful! There were no standards in your young days, were there, Billy?”
He reddened angrily under his thick dull skin; he was ashamed of his blunder, and he hated to be called Billy, even by those lovely lips.
Finally it was decided that he should go as Titus Oates, and should get his dress from Paris, and should learn to say, “O Lard.”
“Remember, the man is not to speak to me, not to approach me,” said Otterbourne to his daughter-in-law on the day of the ball, when she had come to give a glance at the completed decorations.
“Oh, he quite understands that,” she replied. “I have told him you dislike strange men, as some people are afraid of strange dogs.”
She laughed gaily as she spoke.