Who swallowed it by h’axerdent
And didn’t dare to tell ‘er.
She asked it back and said she’d sue—
Away the feller ran.
Whatever will poor Mary do?
She’s lost both heart and man.”
They’d all gone mad. Pandemonium broke loose. Mr. Grace wondered vaguely what it meant. Why were people dancing? Why were people shouting? Then he saw that the maddest of the mad wore a dark blue badge. He heard someone explain to a neighbor, “The winning crew.”
His brain cleared. He was off his box in a flash, struggling, panting, fighting his way to that tall young chap who was in the centre. He was wringing him by the hand.
“Why, by all that’s wonderful, it’s Mr. Grace! Where did you spring from?” Before the question was answered, Peter was introducing him, to the Faun Man, to Harry, to Hardcastle, to a host of others.
Mr. Grace was both elated and abashed. “Want a keb? Sime old keb, Mr. Peter—got it ‘ere a-witing for you.”