"But—gentlemen!" interposed the Hon. Secretary.
"Now, don't you start interferin'"—Bias turned on him sullenly.
"Else you might chance to get what you don't like."
"Oh, they're mad!" wailed Mrs Bosenna, and Dinah was heard to murmur, "You've pushed' em too far, mistress: an' don't say as I didn' warn you!"
"I—I was only goin' to suggest, gentlemen," urged the Hon. Secretary, "it bein' already ten minutes past noon, and everybody waitin' for 'God Save the Queen.'"
"Hullo!" hailed a voice alongside, at the foot of the accommodation table; and Mr Philp's top hat, Mr Philp's deceptively jovial face, Mr Philp's body clad in mourning weeds, climbed successively into view. "There, naybours!" he announced. "I'm in the nick of time, after all, it seems,—though when I heard the church clock strike twelve it sent my heart into my mouth." He stood and panted.
"Ah! good-day, Mr Philp!" Mrs Bosenna turned, hailing his intervention, and advanced to shake hands.
"Good-day to you, ma'am. Been enjoy in' yourself, I hope?" said Mr
Philp, somewhat taken aback by the warmth of her greeting.
"A most successful Regatta . . . don't you agree?"
"I might, ma'am," answered Mr Philp solemnly. "I don't doubt it, ma'am.
But as a matter of fact I have just come from a funeral."
"Oh! . . . I—I beg your pardon—I didn't know—"