"Not likely—still open it."
So Hal's proposal came before his lordship.
"Dear Tuppy," read the man.
"Who the devil 'Tuppies' me on a typewriter?" demanded the peer.
The servant turned to the signature.
"Hal Tailor," he read.
"Tanneur," corrected Tuppy, "he's the sort of cove who would Tuppy me on a typewriter—go on."
"DEAR TUPPY,—
"I've got a great scheme for you. The governor will let you have a house rent free—"
"I'll bet there's something wrong with the house," said Tuppy uncharitably.