"At this time of the day?" said Mrs. Douglass, glancing at the contents of the glass.
"Good whisky," retorted Jim Langham, taking a small quantity of soda, "makes one feel like another man altogether."
"In that case," said the old lady, "by all means have the drink. My dear," to Gertie, "give me my stick and we'll walk up to the house and have tea."
"I'll come with you," remarked Jim Langham.
"You will stay where you are," ordered Mrs. Douglass.
Gertie, at Great Titchfield Street, had invented a house, doubled it, and multiplied it by ten; it came as a surprise to her to find that the residence was a solid building of fair extent with a parapet wall of stone in front, broad steps leading to the open doors. On the lawn tea was being set out by a man-servant; he lighted the wick underneath a silver kettle. Lady Douglass, in black, made an effective entrance down the steps in the company of a dog that looked like a rat.
"How perfectly charming of you to come and see us," she cried, extending a limp hand. "We do so want some one to brighten us up. Darling," to old Mrs. Douglass, "why didn't you tell them to send the bath-chair for you?"
"Myra," retorted the other, "I walk ten times as much as you do."
"Pray take care of yourself, for my sake."
"I hope to find some better incentive than that," said the old lady.