At the last syllable there arose a sudden and terrific shout which sent Mrs Cruden nearly into a fit, and made the loosely-hung windows rattle as if an infernal machine had just exploded on the premises.
The shout was immediately followed by a loud chorus of laughter, and cries of,—
“Well, have you guessed it?”
“Yes, I know what it is,” said the pleasant young lady. “Do you know, Mr Booms?”
“No,” he said, sadly; “how could I guess? What is it, Miss Crisp?”
“Why, ‘Love me, love my dog,’ isn’t it?”
“Right. Well guessed!” cried every one; and amid the general felicitation that ensued the successful proverb-guessers were made room for in the magic circle, and Horace had a chance of exchanging “How d’ye do?” with Mr Booms.
“Who’d have thought of meeting you here?” said he, in a whisper.
“I didn’t expect to meet you,” said the melancholy one. “I say, Cruden, please don’t mention—her.”
“Her? Whom?” said Horace, bewildered.