And Mrs Machin nodded.
"And then when you want a regular turn-out, as you call it," said Denry, "there's the vacuum-cleaner."
The vacuum-cleaner was at that period the last word of civilisation, and the first agency for it was being set up in Bursley. Denry explained the vacuum-cleaner to the housewives, who had got no further than a Ewbank. And they again called down blessings on themselves.
"What price this supper?" Denry exclaimed. "We ought to eat it. I'm sure he'd like us to eat it. Do sit down, all of you. I'll take the consequences."
Mrs Machin hesitated even more than the other ladies.
"It's really very strange, him not being here." She shook her head.
"Don't I tell you he's quite mad," said Denry.
"I shouldn't think he was so mad as all that," said Mrs Machin, dryly. "This is the most sensible kind of a house I've ever seen."
"Oh! Is it?" Denry answered. "Great Scott! I never noticed those three bottles of wine on the sideboard."
At length he succeeded in seating them at the table. Thenceforward there was no difficulty. The ample and diversified cold supper began to disappear steadily, and the wine with it. And as the wine disappeared so did Mr Cotterill (who had been pompous and taciturn) grow talkative, offering to the company the exact figures of the cost of the house, and so forth. But ultimately the sheer joy of life killed arithmetic.