|
Bethberry's sides hurt and she had to wipe her eyes dry. She couldn't remember when she had laughed so hard. In fact, she couldn't stop laughing.
"T-t-twisty tongue," she blurted out, between bouts of laughter. "H-h-h-h-halfsized s-s-s-showoff." She laughed so hard her chair was creaking and she nearly rolled off one side.
Her laughter wasn't infectious, however, for it had intruded upon Saeryn's story. And it mightily offended Master Falco, who had no desire to hear "Halfsize" reiterated. Eodwine was himself insensed that someone else had the audacity to take over his words. Both of them nearly sputtered calumnations upon the Innkeeper.
"Oh dear," giggled the Innkeeper, trying hard to gain control of a sombre demeanour, but failing completely. This time she nearly tipped into the table. "Whoops," she chortled. "Ahem," she coughed.
"My good lady, be so kind"--a sputter of suppressed mirth here--"as to repeat your story. I am afraid I missed almost all of it." Bethberry cleared her throat and pulled her tunic down, sitting up straight in her chair. "What sort of dance was it, you say?"
|