“Well, is he going? Was he wild?” demanded Mrs. Montmorency when Emma brought the note.
“Neither, by the looks of it.”
“Oh, dear! Give me the letter, then, and don’t stand there looking as if—if——” She could think of nothing, so opened the envelope instead.
The sight of the five-pound note gave her astonishment and perplexity.
“Isn’t it like him!” she exclaimed, when she had read what he had to say. “Prosy old fool!”
“Eh?” inquired Emma.
“I was not addressing you.”
She bit one of her short, podgy fingers, and thought hard. “Wish I could see him for a moment.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because you’ve let all the front room windows, like the fool you are. That’s the worst of a house without a basement.”