“Do you mean to cut us?” he cried.
“Yes,” said I.
“Why, what the deuce?--” he began.
“I’ve seen your mother,” said I. “I wish, Mickleham, that when you do
happen to intrude as you did the other day, you wouldn’t repeat what you
see.”
“Lord!” he cried. “She’s not heard of that. I only told Aunt Cynthia.”