“Yes,” said Anson.
“Have they any room for another boarder, Sim?”
“I—I really don’t know, but I’ll ask, if you like, this evening.”
“No, no; don’t, please,” cried Ingleborough. “Perhaps it might be too strong for me. I ought to go through a course of bagpipes first.”
Anson had fastened two buttons of his jacket so as to hold the flute-case from slipping, and now he fastened another button, smiling pleasantly the while.
“That’s meant for a joke,” he said.
“Quite right,” cried Ingleborough abruptly. “Come along.”
He stepped out, closely followed by West, and Anson called after them: “With you directly,” as the door swung to.
“Don’t do that again,” whispered West.
“What?”