“Was he so VERY near, sir?”
“Just under the window—going to and fro—very anxious. I was almost afraid I had spit on him, he looked up so hard—so—”
“What, sir, up at you? at—at MY windows, sir?”
“Not exactly, ma'am, that was only my notion, for I thought I might have spit upon him, and so wakened his anger; but, indeed, he looked all about him, as, indeed, it was natural that he should, you know, if he meditated anything that wa'n't exactly right. There was a carriage in waiting—a close carriage—not a hundred yards below, and—”
“Ah, sir, do tell me what sort of a looking young gentleman was it—eh?”
“Good-looking fellow enough, ma'am—rather tall, slenderish, but not so slender—wore a black frock.” By this time the old creature was up at the window—her long, skinny neck stretched out as far as it could go.
“Ah!” said I, “ma'am, you're quite too late, if you expect to see the sport. They're off; I saw the last of them when I took my last spit from the window. They were then—”
“But, sir, did he—did you say that this person—the person you spit on—carried a young lady away with him?”
“You mistake me, ma'am—”
“Ah”—she drew a mighty long breath as if relieved.