lady severely, "that it is wise of you to give her milk?"
"Oh, yes!" said poor Miss Prudence "She likes it—it is good for her—she takes nothing else."
"Indeed!" said the medical lady, helping herself to potted sardines. "That is very singular for a bilious subject, but no doubt you know best."
"Does Miss Semaphore often suffer from these unpleasant attacks?" asked Mrs. Whitley.
"No," said Prudence. "Never—that is to say—yes—frequently."
Mrs. Whitley looked astonished, as well she might, and Prudence, to avoid further cross-examination, began to read the paper upside down. The paper, unfortunately, belonged to Mr. Lorimer, and was one of the points whereon he was touchy. He could not bear anyone to look at it unless specially invited thereto by him. Presently the abstracted Prudence became aware that an angry altercation was in progress, between her neighbour and Müller.
"Müller!" he growled.
"Blease?" said Müller enquiringly.
"Where the devil have you put The Standard?"
