Miss Stonor smiled, and the soup was placed before him, when, to the amazement of Huish, Mr Rawlinson sent his chair back with a quick motion, deftly-lifted the soup-plate on to the Turkey carpet, and, as if it were a footpan, composedly placed the toes of his patent-leather shoes therein.
Miss Stonor did not move a muscle—she might have been a disciple of Daniel; while the doctor said quietly: “Head hot, Rawlinson?”
“Yes, very,” was the reply, as the eccentric guest smiled and nodded.
“I’d go and lie down for an hour,” said the doctor gently.
“Would you—would you?” said Mr Rawlinson, smiling pleasantly. “Well, I will.”
“Come and join us presently if you feel better,” said the doctor.
“Certainly I will,” said Mr Rawlinson. “Miss Stonor, you’ll excuse me?”
Miss Stonor bowed, and he turned upon Daniel.
“A napkin, Daniel,” he said rather severely. “I cannot leave the room with my shoes in this state.”
He lifted his feet from the soup-plate as he spoke, and sat with his legs at right angles to his body, while in the most matter-of-fact way Daniel stooped down, wiped the patent-leather shoes, and, sticking his thumbs into his armholes, Mr Rawlinson calmly left the room.