"I never fall off chairs."
"Then you're just the fellow I've been scouring the country for," said George. "If all clergymen were like you...."
Mrs. Waddington came to life.
"Would you care for a glass of milk?"
"No, thank you, mother," said George.
"I was not addressing you," said Mrs. Waddington. "I was speaking to Mr. Voules. He has had a long drive and no doubt requires refreshment."
"Of course, of course," said George. "What am I thinking about? Yes, you must certainly stoke up and preserve your strength. We don't want you fainting half-way through the ceremony."
"He would have every excuse," said Mrs. Waddington.
She led the way into the dining-room, where light refreshments were laid out on a side-table—a side-table brightly decorated by the presence of Sigsbee H. Waddington, who was sipping a small gin and tonic and watching with lowering gaze the massive imperturbability of Ferris, the butler. Ferris, though he obviously disapproved of wedding-presents, was keeping a loyal eye on them.
"What are you doing here, Ferris?" asked Mrs. Waddington.