Mr. E. Of all unendurable rackets— [A sudden and sharp boom interrupts him. Mrs. Ellston screams, while her husband indulges in language which, although somewhat inexcusably forcible, is yet to be regarded as not unnatural under the circumstances.] Mrs. E. Oh, George, don’t swear. It always seems so much worse to swear in danger; like tempting Providence; and I know there’s going to be an explosion! Mr. E. (severely) Don’t talk nonsense! The engineer has gone to sleep and left the drafts open, that’s all. Don’t be so absurd. [There is another fusillade from the radiator, reinforced by the reverberations from the nursery, where[159] a regiment of artillery seem to have begun target practice.] [159] Mrs. E. I will go and get my baby! I know— Oh, George, just hear it crash! Do get up and put the screen in front of it; that may turn off the pieces so they won’t come this way. Mr. E. (scornfully) Pieces of what? Noise? Mrs. E. How can you make fun? If the engineer has gone to sleep, he’s sure to blow up the whole hotel. I’m going to get up and dress myself, and take baby over to mother’s! Mr. E. (with calm but cutting irony) At three o’clock in the morning? Shall you walk, or call a carriage? Mrs. E. (beginning to sob in a dry and perfunctory fashion) Oh, you are too cruel! You are perfectly heartless. I wonder you don’t take that dear little innocent baby and hold him between you and the radiator for a shield. Mr. E. That might be a good scheme, my dear, only the little beggar would probably howl so that I haven’t really the moral courage to wake him. [The indignant reply of Mrs. Ellston is lost in the confused sound of the brays of a drove of brazen donkeys, which appear to be disporting themselves in the radiator. The noise of mighty rushing waters, the clanking of chains, the din of a political convention, the characteristic disturbances of a hundred factories and machine-shops, with the deafening whirr of all the elevated railways in the universe follow in turn.] Mrs. E. I will go and get my baby, and I will[160] go to mother’s; and, what is more, we will never, never come back! [160] Mr. E.
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