“I did not,” said Mr. Coulson.
“I’m afraid,” said Mrs. Widdup, “I interrupted you, sir, yesterday when you were about to say something.”
“How comes it, Mrs. Widdup,” said old man Coulson sternly, “that I find it so cold in this house?”
“Cold, sir?” said the housekeeper, “why, now, since you speak of it it do seem cold in this room. But, outdoors it’s as warm and fine as June, sir. And how this weather do seem to make one’s heart jump out of one’s shirt waist, sir. And the ivy all leaved out on the side of the house, and the hand-organs playing, and the children dancing on the sidewalk—’tis a great time for speaking out what’s in the heart. You were saying yesterday, sir———”
“Woman!” roared Mr. Coulson; “you are a fool. I pay you to take care of this house. I am freezing to death in my own room, and you come in and drivel to me about ivy and hand-organs. Get me an overcoat at once. See that all doors and windows are closed below. An old, fat, irresponsible, one-sided object like you prating about springtime and flowers in the middle of winter! When Higgins comes back, tell him to bring me a hot rum punch. And now get out!”
But who shall shame the bright face of May? Rogue though she be and disturber of sane men’s peace, no wise virgin’s cunning nor cold storage shall make her bow her head in the bright galaxy of months.
Oh, yes, the story was not quite finished.
A night passed, and Higgins helped old man Coulson
