Lady B. Nay, you are mistaken—'twas but the wind in the old wainscot. (Aside.) He is quite capable of destroying that innocent child; but, old and attached servant as he is, there are liberties I still know how to forbid. (To M.) Your story—quick!
Monks. First, I delivered the cigars to Sir Vevey Long, whom I found under his verandah. He seemed surprised and gratified by the gift, selected a weed, and was proceeding to light it, whilst he showed a desire to converse familiarly with me. 'Astily excusing myself, I drove away, when——
Lady B. When what? Do not torture a wretched old woman!
Monks. When I heard a loud report behind me, and, in the portion of a brace, two waistcoat-buttons, and half a slipper, which hurtled past my ears, I recognised all that was mortal of the late Sir Vevey. You mixed them cigars uncommon strong, m'Lady.
Elfie (aside). Can it be? But no, no. I will not believe it. I am sure that dear Granny meant no harm!
Lady B. (with a grim pride she cannot wholly repress). I have devoted some study to the subject of explosives. 'Tis another triumph to the Anti-tobacconists. And what of Lady Violet Powdray—did she apply the salve?
Monks. Judging from the 'eartrending 'owls which proceeded from Carmine Cottage, the salve was producing the desired result. Her Ladyship, 'owever, terminated her sufferings somewhat prematoor by jumping out of a top winder just as I was taking my departure——
Lady B. She should have died hereafter—but no matter ... and the Upas-tree?
Monks. Was presented to the Pergaments, who unpacked it, and loaded its branches with toys and tapers; after which Mr. Pergaments, Mrs. P., and all the little Pergaments joined 'ands, and danced round it in light 'arted glee. (In a sombre tone.) They little knoo as how it was their dance of death!
Lady B. That knowledge will come! And the beer, Monkshood—you saw it broached?