“I am harking,” said Mrs. Cooper.
“Am I Bill Simpson or am I not?” demanded Mr. Simpson.
“Bill was always fond of his joke,” said Mr. Cooper, with a glance at the company that would have moved an oyster. “He was always fond of making up things. You're like him in that. What do you think, Milly?”
“It's not my husband,” said Mrs. Simpson.
“Tell us something about her,” said Mr. Cooper, hastily.
“I daren't,” said Mr. Simpson. “Doesn't that prove I'm her husband? But I'll tell you things about your wife, if you like.”
“You dare!” said Mrs. Cooper, turning crimson, as she realized what confidences might have passed between husband and wife. “If you say a word of your lies about me, I don't know what I won't do to you.”
“Very well, I must go on about Bob, then—till he recognizes me,” said Mr. Simpson, patiently. “Carry your mind—”
“Open the door and let him out,” shouted Mr. Cooper, turning to his sister. “How can I recognize a man through a deal door?”
Mrs. Simpson, after a little hesitation, handed him the key, and the next moment her husband stepped out and stood blinking in the gas-light.