“In mistake, madam, I assure you.”
The waspish lady waited until a portion of the ice which she was engaged in despatching had cleared two very shaky-looking teeth bound in gold.
“There are some mistakes, sir, which no gentleman should make.”
This was quite enough for me. To endeavor to make terms with this foe were worse than folly, explanation weakness, and concession cowardice. She gained nothing, however, by her viciousness; whilst I remained upon the field and prepared to bivouac, surrounded by sturdy sentinels in the shape of port, claret, and Madeira.
“The—aw—guard insisted upon his taking the old lady’s—aw—portmanteau.” And Sir Geoffry was proceeding to retail his version of the story when Lord Dundrum gaily exclaimed:
“Oh! by Jove, we’d better put the witness into the box. Let us cross-examine the lawyer.”
“With all my heart,” said I; “the absurdity of the sensation will redeem itself by its novelty.”
My story flowed joyously along, and peal upon peal of laughter greeted me as I described my sensations upon discovering the strange garments.
“So—aw—the widow was—aw—young?”
“About eighteen, Sir Geoffry.”