"Who's he?" demanded James when Fritz had bowed himself out.
"That's our butler," said Helen, kindly. "Don't you like his eyes?"
"I wouldna' swop him eyes," said James. He could not trust himself to discuss the butler's eyes at length.
"Don't be late for dinner, will you, uncle?" she entreated him.
"Dinner!" he cried. "I had my dinner at Derby. What about my tea?"
"I mean tea," she said.
He went upstairs again to his room, but did not stay there a moment. In the corridor he met Helen, swishing along.
"Look here, lass," he stopped her. "A straight question deserves a straight answer. I'm not given to curiosity as a rule, but what is Emanuel Prockter doing on my bed?"
"Emanuel Prockter on your bed!" Helen repeated, blankly. He saw that she was suffering from genuine surprise.
"On my bed!" he insisted.