"It wasn't him I was dreaming on, Ma'am," cried the creature.
"I should think not, indeed," said I. "Dream of your master! Like your impudence! But what I want to know is—all, all you know."
"La! Ma'am!" cried the stupid girl, rubbing her eyes, and yawning frightfully.
"I mean that note you left on my dressing-table!"
"Oh!" she exclaimed, as though at last she was thoroughly awake. "Oh, ma'am, be sure you don't let master get up. Put your arms round his neck, if you almost choke him—but don't let him get up."
"Why not?" I cried.
"He's going to fight; with pistols. One of—that is, I've been told all about it; but not time enough to tell you. Master would have fought yesterday, only it was Sunday, so he went to church instead. Mr. Truepenny has come, like a friend, all the way from London, to see fair play; but don't you let him get up, Ma'am, pray don't"—
"Fight! And with whom?"
"Don't know exactly, Ma'am; but that doesn't matter. One may be as bad as another. But you're sure master's safe, for he was to go out early, as I heard?"
"I've locked the door; and he shall not stir. If he attempts it, I'll raise the house!" said I.