‘All right, I don’t want you.’ He hobbled back again, and blew three calls on a dog-whistle which hung from his neck. ‘I’ll call Joey.’ Joey came frisking up from nowhere, as dirty as mud could make her.
She turned formal at once on seeing the ‘nobs,’ and put out her tongue at Prosser.
‘Joey, old girl, you see these two d——d fools here? One of ’em’s a Prince of ancient lineage.’
‘What, that great big ugly bloke?’
‘With four hundred thousand pounds a year!’
‘Lor’!’ said Joey, politely.
‘Borrow a hanky from some nice little girl and prepare for hysterics, for the other one’s your long-lost father!’
‘He drinks,’ said Joey, edging away.
Hartopp laughed. ‘It’s wonderful what a lot these children know. Now look here, Joey.... Joey’s included, of course?’
‘Yes, Joey’s included,’ answered Dwala.