"Certainly. Fancy, you can go to your tatting."
"Mr Hennessey has something to explain to me."
"Oh, ma'am, the houses that have been broke up by explainings!"
And with this, as the Prophet thought, appallingly appropriate exclamation, Mrs. Fancy hurried feverishly from the room.
"Now what is the question you wish to ask me, Hennessey?" said Mrs. Merillia, with a soft dignity.
"There are--one moment--there are eight questions, grannie," responded the Prophet, shrinking visibly before the dread necessity by which he found himself confronted.
"The first is--is--grannie, when were you removed from--from the bottle?"
A very delicate flush crept into Mrs. Merillia's charming cheeks.
"The bottle, Hennessey! Never, never!" she said, with a sort of pathetic indignation. "How could you suppose--I--the bottle--"
"Answered, darling grannie, answered!" ejaculated the Prophet. "Please--please don't! And now--your first tooth?"
"My first what!" cried Mrs. Merillia in almost terrified amazement.
"Answered, dearest grannie!" cried the Prophet, with gathering agitation. "Did you ever wear a short coat?"
"And you're sixty-eight on the twentieth. So for sixty-eight years you've always worn a skirt. That's four."
"When did you put your hair up, grannie, darling?"
"My hair--never. You know I've always had a maid to do these things for me. Fancy--"
"Of course. You've never put your hair up. I might have known. You were married very young, weren't you?"
"Ah, yes. On my seventeenth birthday, and was left a widow in exactly two years' time. Your poor dear granf--"
"And now, dear grannie, tell me one thing, only one little thing more. About--that is, talking of rashes--"
"No, grannie, rashes--illnesses, you know, that take an epidemic form."
"Well, what about them? Surely there isn't an epidemic in the square?"
"Exactly. Have you ever--an epidemic, you know?"
"I have an epidemic in Berkeley Square? You must be crazy, Hennessey!"
"Probably, very likely, grannie. But have you? Tell me quickly! Have you?"
"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.