“Ah, here is the gin!”
But Mrs. Railing had an affection for synonyms and a passion for respectability. A spasm of outraged sensibility passed over her honest face.
“Oh, my lord, don’t call it gin. It sounds so vulgar. When my poor ’usband was alive I used to say to ’im: ‘Captain, I won’t have it called gin in my ’ouse.’ I always used to call my ’usband the captain, although he was only first mate. I wish you could ’ave seen him. If any one ’ad said to me: ‘Mrs. Railing, put your ’and on a fine, ’andsome, ’ealthy man,’ I should ’ave put my ’and on James Samuel Railing. And would you believe it, before he was thirty-five he was no more.”
“Very sad!” said the Canon.
“Oh, and ’e was a dreadful sight before ’e died. You should have seen his legs.”
“Leave me alone, Louie,” answered Mrs. Railing, somewhat incensed. “Do you think I’ve never been in a gentleman’s house before? You’re always naggin’.”
“No, I’m not, ma.”
“Don’t contradict, Louie. I won’t ’ave it.”
But Canon Spratte interposed with soft words.