"And I suppose," his nephew went on, "that you'd rather we played at the top of the house. I expect it would be quieter, if you're writing letters. Mother said you often liked to be quiet." He alluded to this desire rather shamefully, as if it were a secret vice of his uncle, who hurriedly approved the choice of the top landing for the scene of the classic drama.
"Then would you please tell Mrs. Worfolk that we can have the calf's head?"
"The what?"
"V found a calf's head in the larder, and it would make a fizzing Gorgon's head, but Mrs. Worfolk wouldn't let us have it."
John was so much delighted with the trend of Bertram's ingenuity that he sent for Mrs. Worfolk and told her that the calf's head might be borrowed for the play.
"I'll take no responsibility for your dinner," said his housekeeper, warningly.
"That's all right, Mrs. Worfolk. If anything happens to the head I shan't grumble. There'll always be the cold beef, won't there?"
Mrs. Worfolk turned up her eyes to heaven and left the room.
"Well, I think I've arranged that for you successfully."
"Thank you, Uncle John," said Bertram.