"Mr. Blithers is not blessed with an imagination, Count," said she.
"He doesn't imagine anything."
"If he should presume to insult our Prince by--" grated the old
soldier, very red in the face and erect--"if he should presume to--"
Words failed him and an instant later he was laughing, but somewhat
uncertainly, with his amused host and hostess.
Mr. Blithers reached home in high spirits. His wife was asleep, but
he awoke her without ceremony.
"I say, Lou, wake up. Got some news for you. We'll have a prince in
the family before you can say Jack Robinson."
She sat up in bed, blinking with dismay. "In heaven's name, Will,
what have you been doing? What--_have_ you been--"
"Cutting bait," said he jovially. "In a day or two I'll throw the
hook in, and you'll see what I land. He's as good as caught right
now, but we'll let him nibble a while before we jerk. And say, he's a
corker, Lou. Finest young fellow I've seen in many a day. He--"
"You don't mean to say that you--you actually said anything to him
about--about--Oh, my God, Will, don't tell me that you were crazy
enough to--" cried the poor woman, almost in tears.
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