"Indeed, my dear," with an intense look, "there is nothing of any possible interest to you in my engagement to-morrow; it is quite professional, I assure you."
"Gaffer Harden, you 're not telling the truth, and you know you 're not; and what 's more, you know I know you 're not."
Mr. Harden shook his head deprecatingly, and said in a soothing voice, "And so Mr. Rondelet and you have at last arranged your expedition. Dear me! I am exceedingly sorry that I—"
"Don't glare at me like a great grinning gargoyle, gaffer. You are a humbug, a regular ringtailed roarer of a humbug. Wild horses, prancing mules, fiery untamed donkeys would n't keep you from going, and you know it. We must take baskets and provisions and wine and things. You will see all about that. We can't drop down upon your dear old uncle, you know, Mr. Rondelet, without any warning, and expect him to bring a table already spread out of the meadow, like little Two Eyes."
"I will make all the arrangements, my dear. I only wish I could be of the party. Perhaps I may be able to arrange—I may even yet—Well, well—I will do my best."
"Gaffer?"
"My dear?"
