“Who’s Lonsdale?” demanded Templeton-Collins. “You might sing out and tell him I want him.”
With this request Templeton-Collins vanished, leaving Michael in a quandary. There was only one hope of relieving the intolerable situation, he thought, which was to shout “Porcher” from where he was standing. This he did at the very moment the scout emerged from Lonsdale’s rooms.
“Coming, sir,” said Porcher in an aggrieved voice.
“I think Mr. Templeton-Collins is calling you,” Michael explained, rather lamely he felt, since it must have been obvious to the scout that Michael himself had been calling him.
“And I say,” he added hurriedly, “you might bring me up a hammer or something to open my boxes, when you’ve done.”
Leaving Porcher to appease the outraged Templeton-Collins, Michael retreated to the security of his own rooms, where in a few minutes the scout appeared to raise the question of lunch.
“Will you take commons, sir?”
Michael looked perplexed.
“Commons is bread and cheese. Most of my gentlemen takes commons. If you want anything extra, you go to the kitchen and write your name down for what you want.”
This sounded too difficult, and Michael gratefully chose commons.