Mr. Sharp stared at him. “Have I said anything I oughtn't to?” he inquired.
Mr. Culpepper shook his head, and, taking up a fork and spoon, began to serve a plum-pudding that Miss Garland had just placed on the table.
“What was it you said I was to be sure and not tell Mrs. Culpepper?” inquired Mr. Sharp, dreamily. “I haven't said that, have I?”
“No!” snapped the harassed Mr. Culpepper, laying down the fork and spoon and regarding him ferociously. “I mean, there wasn't anything. I mean, I didn't say so. You're raving.”
“If I did say it, I'm sorry,” persisted Mr. Sharp. “I can't say fairer than that, can I?”
“You're all right,” said Mr. Culpepper, trying, but in vain, to exchange a waggish glance with his wife.
“I didn't say it?” inquired Mr. Sharp.
“No,” said Mr. Culpepper, still smiling in a wooden fashion.
“I mean the other thing?” said Mr. Sharp, in a thrilling whisper.
“Look here,” exclaimed the overwrought Mr. Culpepper; “why not eat your pudding, and leave off talking nonsense? Nobody's listening to you.”