"Morning, sir!" He said it very gently--I thought solicitously. "_How_ do you feel, sir?" This last in the kind of tone you use when the chap's going to die to-morrow, don't you know, and doesn't know it yet himself.
I mumbled reply, gulping down the glass of ice-water he tendered.
He rubbed his hands one over the other and stooped above me anxiously.
"I _hope_, sir, you're not in much pain--from last night, sir, I mean?"
"Pain?" I ejaculated crossly. "Why should I be in pain? Don't be a silly ass!"
"Yes, sir!"--very softly, and with a deep sigh as he dropped back. By Jove, he looked as cheerful as a jolly tombstone!
"Noth--nothing, sir!"--hastily--"I was just a-thinking of the--h'm--may I say scrimmage, sir?"
I waited till I had taken from his hand the second glass of ice-water and swallowed it, thinking maybe I would get hold of it--the dashed idea, I mean.
"What was that? _Scrimmage?_ I don't remember hearing anything--_what's_ that?"
"Pardon, sir--" Jenkins' eye shifted unhappily; "but may I ask, sir, what _is_ the last thing you do remember?"
I sat up a bit straighter, rubbing my head and devilish annoyed at being made to try to think at all. Then I remembered: We were in a jolly blue aëroplane drawn by golden humming-birds and she was just telling me--_no_, dash it, that was a dream--just a dashed dream! I groaned, dropping my head upon my knees. "Why, the last thing I remember was the punch--punch--"
"_Your_ punch to put out the light," I finished. Then I looked at him, startled. "Oh, I say, now, it wasn't burglars, was it?"
You see, I thought at once of Foxy Grandpa and my darling's pajamas.
"_Not_ precisely, sir." Jenkins hesitated; then moved a little nearer. "I--I hope you'll pardon me, Mr. Lightnut, sir; but I can't help a feeling that you ought to know everything before--h'm--I was going to say, sir, before you see the family. I _hope_ you'll pardon me, sir!"--he heaved desperately--"I mean about all that happened last night."
I stared. "Oh, I say, Jenkins," I said, with an anxious thought, "_you_ didn't--er--_you_ know--I mean you and Wilkes didn't drink the rest of the punch--after he took it away, you know--eh?"
"_Me?_" Jenkins' hand clutched the heavy brass curve at the foot of the bed. "No, _sir_!"--and he added sadly: "Besides, sir, there _wasn't_ any rest of it! Mr. Wil--I mean Wilkes, was a-commenting on it. That was how I come to find I didn't have any more of the blank pledges. So I just walked across the park to get some extra ones I had given the gardener, and he said I could have 'em _all_, if I'd just let him get a little sleep; and he chucked 'em all out of his window. Seemed irritated like because I woke him up. And then, sir, I don't know whether it was because of the splashing of the fountains, but I had an idea."