Servants?
John.
A minute or two ago I was trying to escape from the dining-room by passing through the kitchen, and I came upon my cook and Mrs. Fraser’s maid discussing me over a bowl of chicken broth. Mrs. Quaife—my cook——! I heard her distinctly! “I never thought Mr. Allingham was that sort of a gentleman,” she said.
Olive.
What sort of a gentleman?
John.
I don’t know. I got away.
Olive.
H’m, I think I should have been rude to her.
John.