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Merillia had a bandy-legged dachshund called Beau, whose name was for many years often affectionately, and quite correctly, pronounced by Fancy Quinglet. One day, however, she chanced to see it written upon paper B.E.A.U. "Whatever does that mean, ma'am?" she asked of Mrs. Merillia. "Why, Beau, of course, Beau the dog. What should it mean?" "Bow?" cried Fancy. "Is he writ so?"
Merillia was lying on a sofa, ministered to by Fancy Quinglet, who, at the moment of his entrance, was busily engaged in stuffing a large wad of cotton-wool into the right ear of her beloved mistress. "Leave us please, Fancy," said Mrs. Merillia, in a voice that sounded much older than usual. "And as your head is so bad, too, you had better lie down." "Thank you, ma'am.
"It do seem strange, Gustavus," answered Mr. Ferdinand, leaving out the "like" in a cultivated manner. "It do." In the drawing-room the Prophet stood, with clenched hands, gazing through the telescope at Mercury and Uranus, Jupiter, Saturn and Venus, while, on the second floor, Mrs. Fancy Quinglet, Mrs.
Then he crawled slowly up the stairs and sought his grandmother's room. Mrs. Merillia was just beginning to recover from the prostration of the preceding day when the Prophet came into the room where she was seated with Mrs. Fancy Quinglet. She looked up at him almost brightly, but started when she saw how agitated he seemed.
Merillia's most comfortable home for at least fifteen years, he had actually never once penetrated beyond this door. It had never occurred to him to do so. Often he had approached it. Quite recently, when Mrs. Fancy Quinglet had broken into tears on the refusal of Sir Tiglath Butt to burst according to her prediction, he had handed her to this very portal.
All three of them, then, with long steps and theatrical pauses, were stagily upon the move, when suddenly the door that led to the servants' quarters swung open and Mrs. Fancy Quinglet debouched into their midst, succeeded by Mr. Ferdinand, who carried in his hand a menu card in a silver holder.
Merillia's devoted, but occasionally disconcerting, maid, swathed her mistress's ankle in bandages previously steeped in cold water and in vinegar. Mrs. Merillia's accident made a very deep impression upon the Prophet's mind. He thought it over carefully, and desired to discuss it in all its bearings with Mrs. Fancy Quinglet, who had been his confidante for full thirty years. Mrs.
The three voices failed, and the terrible, united laughter was just upon the point of breaking forth again when a diversion occurred. The door of the drawing-room was softly opened, and Mrs. Fancy Quinglet appeared upon the threshold, holding in her hands an ice-wool shawl for the comfort of her mistress.
Have you?" "Certainly not! As if any gentlewoman " "Answered, grannie, answered! Eight!" "Eight what?" "Questions. Thank you, dearest grannie. I knew you'd tell me, I knew you would!" And the Prophet rushed from the room, leaving Mrs. Merillia in a condition that cannot be described and that not all the subsequent ministrations of Mrs. Fancy Quinglet were able to alleviate.
An eight-day clock, which was carefully and lovingly wound up by the prudent Mrs. Fancy Quinglet every morning and evening, snored peacefully in a recess by the hearth, and, from a crevice near the window, the bright, intelligent eyes of a couple of well-developed black-beetles mother and son contentedly surveyed the cheerful scene.
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