“And all this,” cried Alfred, after studying with a look the meanness that was fain to have the meanest help, and yet was so mean as to turn upon it: “all this because of one simple natural question!”
“You should have waited till I thought proper to say something about it of myself. I don’t like your coming over me with your Georgianas, as if you was her proprietor and mine too.”
“Well, when you are in the gracious mind to say anything about it of yourself,” retorted Lammle, “pray do.”
“I have done it. I have said you managed capitally. You and your wife both. If you’ll go on managing capitally, I’ll go on doing my part. Only don’t crow.”
“I crow!” exclaimed Lammle, shrugging his shoulders.
“Or,” pursued the other—“or take it in your head that people are your puppets because they don’t come out to advantage at the particular moments when you do, with the assistance of a very clever and agreeable wife. All the rest keep on doing, and let Mrs. Lammle keep on doing. Now, I have held my tongue when I thought proper, and I have spoken when I thought proper, and there’s an end of that. And now the question is,” proceeded Fledgeby, with the greatest reluctance, “will you have another egg?”
“No, I won’t,” said Lammle, shortly.
“Perhaps you’re right and will find yourself better without it,” replied Fascination, in greatly improved spirits. “To ask you if you’ll have another rasher would be unmeaning flattery, for it would make you thirsty all day. Will you have some more bread and butter?”
“No, I won’t,” repeated Lammle.