"And what is it doing in my drawing-room?" demanded Lady Knob-Kerrick with ominous calm.
"It was smellin', mum," broke in Bindle, "an' we was gettin' Calves to take it out. It's all through Ginger, 'e likes tasty food; but 'e ain't 'appy——"
"Hold your tongue!" said Lady Knob-Kerrick, turning to Bindle and withering him through her lorgnettes.
She turned once more to her major-domo.
"Wilton," she demanded, "what is the meaning of this outrage?"
"It's the billets, my lady."
"The what?"
"I haven't ordered any billets. What are billets?"
Suddenly her eye caught sight of the bust of the late Sir Benjamin Biggs.