Rusty came down the stairs, his jaws working, and his cheeks puffing vigorously.
Jarvis spun around nervously at the sound. He was keyed up this evening, despite the humorous resolution which had straightened the lines of that amiable mouth.
"What have you been doing, Rusty? What's in your mouth?" he demanded impatiently.
"Yassir ... I mean, no, sir! I was jest slippin' a little snack dat young lady bring up to me. I was so hungry I could jest feel my stommick slippin' through my suspenders an' climbin' up my backbone on de other side.... Um, yum—an' some Spanish po'k-chop, at dat!"
He rolled his eyes in ecstasy and licked his lips.
"But it warn't near enough!"
Just then Jarvis heard a scream, from the elevation of the balcony. The Princess was calling, frantically.
"Mr. ... Warren ... Mr. Warren Jarvis!"
He darted toward the steps, and met her half-way up them, as she ran down, her face ghastly with fear.
"What is it? Tell me?"