every now and then enunciating, in spite of himself, about one letter of some word or words that were almost oaths; 'papa, will you not come down-stairs this evening?' She spoke distinctly: he was rather deaf.
'Afraid not—eh h-h!—very much afraid I shal not, Elfride. Piph-ph-ph! I can't bear even a handkerchief upon this deuced toe of mine, much less a stocking or slipper—piph-ph-ph! There 'tis again! No, I sha'n't get up till to-morrow.'
'Then I hope this London man won't come; for I don't know what I should do, papa.'
'Well, it would be awkward, certainly.'
'I should hardly think he would come to-day.'
'Why?'
'Because the wind blows so.'
'Wind! What ideas you have, Elfride! Who ever heard of wind stopping a man from doing his business? The idea of this toe of mine coming on so suddenly!... If
