"Dead right," said Mr. Mortimer.
"There!" said Mr. Bennett. "You hear? And when Henry Mortimer says a thing, it's so. There's nobody's word I'd take before Henry Mortimer's."
"When Rufus Bennett makes an assertion," said Mr. Mortimer, highly flattered by these kind words, "you can bank on it, Rufus Bennett's word is his bond. Rufus Bennett is a white man!"
The two old friends clasped hands with a good deal of feeling.
"I am not disputing Mr. Bennett's claim to belong to the Caucasian race," said Mrs. Hignett, "I merely maintain that this house is...."
"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" interrupted Jane. "You can thresh all that out some other time. The point is, if this fellow is your nephew, I don't see what we can do. We'll have to let him go."
"I came to this house," said Sam, raising his vizor to facilitate speech, "to make a social call...."
"At this hour of the night!" snapped Mrs. Hignett. "You always were an inconsiderate boy, Samuel."
"I came to enquire after poor Eustace's ankle. I've only just heard that the poor chap was ill."
"He's getting along quite well," said Jane, melting. "If I had known you were so fond of Eustace...."
"All right, is he?" said Sam.
"Well, not quite all right, but he's going on very nicely."
"Fine!"
"Eustace and I are engaged, you know!"
"No, really? Splendid! I can't see you very distinctly--how those Johnnies in the old days ever contrived to put up a scrap with things like this on their heads beats me--but you sound a good sort. I hope you'll be very happy."
"Thank you ever so much, Mr. Marlowe. I'm sure we shall."
"Eustace is one of the best."
"How nice of you to say so."
"All this," interrupted Mrs. Hignett, who had been a chafing auditor of this interchange of courtesies, "is beside the point. Why did you dance in the hall, Samuel, and play the orchestrion?"
"Yes," said Mr. Bennett, reminded of his grievance, "waking people up."
"Scaring us all to death!" complained Mr. Mortimer.
"I remember you as a boy, Samuel," said Mrs. Hignett, "lamentably lacking in consideration for others and concentrated only on your selfish pleasures. You seem to have altered very little."
"Don't ballyrag the poor man," said Jane Hubbard. "Be human! Lend him a can-opener!"