She went forth, with her candle in her hand, and stood at the turn of the banister, confronting Mr. Dingwell, who, also furnished with a candle, was now about midway down the last flight of stairs. "Egeria, in the thunder!" exclaimed the hard, scoffing tones of Mr. Dingwell; whom, notwithstanding her former encounter with him, she would hardly have recognised in his ugly disguise. "A hoffle night for anyone to go out, sir," she said, rather sternly, with a courtesy at the same time. "Hoffle, is it?" said Mr. Dingwell, amused, with mock gravity. "The hofflest, sir, I think I hever 'ave remembered." "Why, ma'am, it isn't _raining_; I put my hand out of the window. There's none of that hoffle rain, ma'am, that gives a fellow rheumatism. I hope there's no unusual fog--is there?" "_There_, sir;" exclaimed she, as another loud peal rattled over Rosemary Court, with a blue glare through the lobby window and the fanlight in the hall. She paused, and lifted her hand to her eyes till it subsided, and then murmured an ejaculation. "I like thunder, my dear. It reminds me of your name, dear Miss Rumble;" and he prolonged the name with a rolling pronunciation. "Shakespeare, you know, who says everything better than anyone else in the world, makes that remarkable old gentleman, King Lear, say, 'Thunder, _rumble_ thy bellyfull!' Of course, _I_ would not say _that_ in a drawing-room, or to you; but kings are so refined they may say things _we_ can't, and a genius like Shakespeare hits it off." "I would not go out, sir, on such a night, without I was very sure it was about something _good_ I was a-going," said Miss Rumble, very pale. "You labour under electro-phobia, my dear ma'am, and mistake it for piety. I'm not a bit afraid of that sort of artillery, ma'am. Here we are, two or three millions of people in this town; and two or three million of shots, and we'll see by the papers, I venture to say, not three shots tell. Don't you think if Jupiter really meant mischief he could manage something better?" "I know, sir, it ought to teach us"--here she winced and paused; for another glare, followed by another bellow of the thunder, "long, loud, and deep," interposed. "It should teach us some godly fear, if we has none by nature." Mr. Dingwell looked at his watch. "Oh! Mr. Dingwell, it is hoffle. I wish you would only see it, sir." "_See_ the _thunder_--eh?" "My poor mother. She always made us go down on our knees, and say our prayers--she would--while the thunder was." "You'd have had rather long prayers to-night. How your knees must have ached--egad! I don't wonder you dread it, Miss Sarah." "And so I _do_, Mr. Dingwell, and so I should. Which I think all other sinners should dread it also." "Meaning _me_." "And take warning of the wrath to come." Here was another awful clap. "Hoffle it is, Mr. Dingwell, and a warnin' to _you_, sent special, mayhap." "Hardly fair to disturb all the town for _me_, don't you think?"