"And what were you doing?" Dr. Galbraith asked astutely.
"We were in the drawing room," Angelica answered, "trying to find out from a lady why she tied herself up so tight in the middle."
"And so you came off here to see?"
"Yes," said Diavolo. "We wanted to catch you at it."
"You little brute, misbegotten by the—" Dr. Galbraith began, but Diavolo interrupted him.
"Sir!" he exclaimed, drawing himself up with an expression of as much indignation as could be got into his small patrician features. "If you do not instantly withdraw that calumny, I shall have to fight you on my mother's behalf, and I shall consider it my duty to inform her of the insinuation which is the cause of offence."
"I apologize," said Dr. Galbraith, taking off his hat and bowing low. "I assure you the expression was used as a mere façon de parler."
"I accept your explanation, sir," said Diavolo, returning the salute. "But I caution you to be careful for the future. What is a façon de parler, Angelica?" he whispered as he put his hat on.
"Oh, just a way of saying it," she answered. "I wish you wouldn't talk so much. Men are always cackling by the hour all about nothing. If people come to see me when I have a house of my own, I shall not forget the rites of hospitality."
The doctor put up his pruning knife. There was a twinkle in his gray eyes.