Jones walked in, with the rain streaming from his coat.
“Katey!” called Mr. Goodson to his wife. “Here is Jones come to say that Julia won’t be home to-night.”
“What?” demanded Mrs. Goodson, appearing in the hall and regarding Jones as if he were a mild sort of lunatic; “Julia is at home.”
“Well, I don’t understand it,” said Jones, plaintively. “I was rung up half an hour ago, and asked to come and tell you that your daughter wouldn’t be at home on account of the storm.”
“And do you mean to say that you stand ready to turn out at all hours and deliver messages free of cost?” cried Goodson.
“It looks that way.”
“Well, you are an ass!”
“Don’t compliment me too freely, Goodson, I can’t take in much more; I’m soaked as it is.”