“I know——”
“Mdlle. Sembrach—bonnets; supplies the Tintz girls with headgear, and is allowed to pass as a friend of the family because she forgets to send in the bill. Convenient, isn’t it? She looks like making a match—or a breach of promise——”
“It is incredible,” almost vociferated my little friend, whose eyes I was evidently opening as to the ways and means of a certain, or rather uncertain, class of society. “It is incredible,” he said, “that you should tell me all these scandalous tales in the house where you are privileged——”
“Quite so, quite so,” I said, fearing I may have wounded his sensibilities. “One only does this sort of thing when the function is a fizzle. But you appeared to know no one.”
“You appear to know everyone——”
“A good many. Come, let us have a stroll round and try and find the host.”
The little man blinked nervously.
“Have you any idea what the Johnny’s like?” I enquired.
“Exactly like me,” said the little man. “I am Sir Tumnal Tintz!”