“Say, Gor-don! What am I—one of the extras? Ain’t I got any say in this? You don’t care! Well, I’m certainly glad you’re that way—it’s grand. But I allowed myself to be trapped by a she-octopus and I’ll find another way of getting out than taking the short trail to the hutch. And the only way out is to behave.”
Mr. Superbus agreed. He was not unprepared for the claim that Gordon was master of the house: against this strange hallucination on the part of Uncle Isaac that he was his own nephew, Diana had warned him.
“You’re a good lad and I’m a good lad,” he murmured. “We’re all good lads together.”
He winked at Heloise. Susceptible to such signals, Heloise winked back.
It was maddening—to what degree, Gordon learnt painfully. Mr. Superbus was so kind and so helpful and so tolerant. Gordon went into his pantry and searched for a large, razor-sharp carving knife. There are some things no man can endure—kindness is one of them.
CHAPTER XV
“Life,” said Mr. Dempsi, stretching the toes of his small feet to the fire with a luxurious intake of breath, “is a beautiful thing. From the utter depths of loveless despair to the sublime accomplishment of heart’s desire—what a transition, my own!”
“Mr. Dempsi—” began Diana.
“Wopsy,” he murmured reproachfully.
“Well—Wopsy. I have allowed you to stay because I wanted a quiet talk with you. A quiet talk,” she stressed the qualification as he reached out for a hand that was not there.