“Shan’t. They’re all for Mark.”
“Must,” cried the boy, seizing her round the waist.
“Pst! Someone coming.”
Syd dashed out of the window, and the girl began to move some of the breakfast things, but was interrupted by the entrance of a sharp-looking young groom with very closely-cut hair, and trousers so tight in the leg that the wonder was how he put them on and pulled them off.
“Oh, it’s you, is it, Mark?” said the girl, tartly.
“Me it is, Jenny. Think it was the boss?”
“Maybe. Here’s a pretty time of the morning to have breakfast things about.”
“Pretty time? Of course, it’s a pretty time. Eat when you’re hungry. When the guv’nor wants his corn he’ll come down to the sally-manger as they call it.”
“But look at the time!”
“Oh, hang the time! A man ain’t a locomotive, made to live up to a time-table. I believe her ladyship has a time for everything, down to sneezing and cleaning her teeth. It’s orful, that it is.”