"Sh!" hissed Flanders, clapping his hand over Master Reginald's mouth.
"Never mind that!"

"Did I understand Mr. Bingle to say, Mr. Flinders, that you report for
the Banner?" It was Mrs. Force who spoke. She was inspecting the young
man through a bejewelled lorgnette, held at an angle which was meant
to establish beyond dispute the fact that she was looking down upon
him from a superior height. She was a tall woman and she had been
married to Mr. Force for twelve long years. Looking down on him had
become such a habit that it was quite impossible for her to look up to
any one of his sex.

"Yes, Mrs. Force, the Banner."

"Can you tell me who put that disgusting item in the paper about my
little gathering last week?" She regarded him with severity.

"Gathering? Oh, I daresay it was one of the hospital reporters, Mrs.
Force," said Flanders suavely. She spent the rest of the evening in
cogitation.

Three words describe Mrs. Force. She detested children.

Joe, the coachman, and Watson were waiting for an opportunity to speak
to Mr. Bingle. They appeared to be crowding each other.

"I beg pardon, Mr. Bingle," began Joe, hurriedly, as the master turned
in response to Watson's cough.