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--"

Her pretty old voice died away.

"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.

"Tooth--when did you cut it?"

"I have no idea. Surely, Hennessey--"

"Answered, dearest grannie!" cried the Prophet, with gathering
agitation. "Did you ever wear a short coat?"

"I--I'm not a man!"

"You didn't! Always a skirt?"

"Of course! Why--"

"And you're sixty-eight on the twentieth. So for sixty-eight years
you've always worn a skirt. That's four."

"Four what? Are you--?"

"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--"

"Thank you, grannie, thank you! Seven!"

"Seven what, Hennessey? One would th--"

"And now, dear grannie, tell me one thing, only one little thing more.
About--that is, talking of rashes--"

"Rashers!"

"No, grannie, rashes--illnesses, you know, that take an epidemic form."

"Well, what about them? Surely there isn't an epidemic in the square?"

"How many have you had, grannie?"

"Where? Had what?"

"Here, anywhere in the square, grannie."

"Had what in the square?"

"Rashes."

"I! Have a rash 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?"

"Certainly not! As if any gentlewoman--"

"Answered, grannie, answered! Eight!"

"Eight what?"

"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.

Having reached the hall, the Prophet hastily put on his coat and hat and
called Mr. Ferdinand to him.