“They’ve forgotten the butter, sir,” he said.
“No, my boy, no,” replied the usher; “butter is a luxury reserved for the good. The Doctor will send for you both by and by.”
He went out and locked the door, while we stood listening till the steps had died away.
“It’s a jolly shame!” cried Mercer. “I’m not going to stop here and eat dry bread.”
“Never mind,” I said; “I don’t mind for once;” and, taking one of the pieces of bread, I lifted the jug to fill a mug, but set it down again without pouring any out.
“What’s the matter?”
“Look,” I said.
Mercer darted to the table, looked into the jug, poured out a little of its contents, and set the vessel down, speechless for the moment with rage.
“Water!” he cried at last, and dashing to the table again, he ran with it to the window, and threw both jug and contents flying out into the shrubbery below.
“Oh!” he ejaculated, directly after; “I didn’t know you were there.”