“Certainly, I shall if you feel like funking it. Have no doubt about that. And I shall do it thoroughly,” said his wife promptly.
“Oh, Lord!” groaned the Colonel, as he swiftly visualised the interview. “The poor devil has hell enough now.”
“Thank you, Edgar. It is a dainty compliment. But I would rather give him hell, as you so delicately suggest——”
“Augusta!” protested the Colonel.
“Than allow him to bring hell to my house and family. But that’s my last word. I’m going to sleep.” So saying she gave her back to her husband, snuggled down under the covers and, with a little sigh of content as with a good day’s work well done, settled herself to enjoy the slumber of the just.
“And who will tell Paul?” The Colonel’s pitiful appeal broke the long silence.
“Well! I must say, Edgar, you are most annoying, breaking in upon one’s sleep that way! Who will tell Paul? I will. Now, go to sleep.”
“God help the boy!” muttered the Colonel to his pillow. Then, after a few moments, he said sharply, “I’ll do it myself.”
“What?” asked his wife sleepily. Then, quite crossly, “Oh, go ahead and do it, whatever it is.”
The Colonel’s monosyllabic reply was indistinct, but rich in emphasis.