“I couldn’t say, sir.”

“No, I suppose not. No,” he thought it over. “I suppose you couldn’t.”

Stevens swooped down upon a tray by the bedside.

“I will bring you some fresh tea, sir. This is cold.”

“You think that I ought to get up and⁠—er⁠—see the lady?”

Stevens made no reply, but he held his back very stiff and Jimmy read the signs correctly.

“Oh! very well,” he said. “I suppose I’d better. She didn’t give her name?”

“No, sir.”

“M’m. She couldn’t be by any possible chance my Aunt Jemima, could she? Because if so, I’m damned if I’m going to get up.”