“I am not going, grannie,” said the Prophet, overwhelmed with contrition. “I cannot go in any case.”
“Why not?”
“I—I have some work to do at home.”
He avoided the glance of her bright eyes, and continued.
“Grannie, I am deeply grieved at all you have gone through to-day. Believe me it has not been my fault—at least not entirely. I may have been injudicious, but I never—never—”
He paused, quite overcome with emotion.
“I don’t know what will happen if the telegrams go on till midnight,” said Mrs. Merillia. “The Duke of Camberwell is a very violent man, since he had that sunstroke at the last Jubilee, and I shouldn’t wonder if he—”
“Grannie, there will not be any more telegrams.”
“But you said that before, Hennessey.”
“And I say it again. There will not be any more. I have just informed the messenger that the next boy who knocks will certainly be—well, destroyed.”