"'YES,' CUT IN EVES, WHO HAD COME OUT INTO THE ROAD. 'IF I WERE YOU, YOUNG FELLER, I'D JOLLY WELL CHUCK HIM INTO THE HORSE-POND.'"
The stranger looked from one to the other, his astonishment at Templeton's address yielding to wrath.
"Who are you a-talking to?" he cried, making an aggressive move towards Eves.
"Not to you, my dear sir, not to you. I was merely telling this young feller what I should do if I were he, and you may thank your lucky stars I'm not."
The man eyed the speaker truculently, as if meditating chastisement; but Eves, in spite of the blue band on his arm, looked so well knit, so vigorous, that valour subsided into discretion. Muttering something about "young pups in khaki," the stranger turned towards the car, saw that Templeton had begun lubricating, and strolled across the yard towards a strange vehicle standing outside the garage.
"Here, Thomson, come and look at this," he called.
For a few minutes the two men walked round the vehicle, discussing its appearance, laughing as one pointed out this or that feature to the other.
"It ain't a car," said the chauffeur.
"More like a boat," said his employer. "This here's a mast, ain't it? P'raps it's one of them hydroplanes."
"They're the same as airyplanes without the wheels. My idea it's an agricultural implement: now-a-days they've all sorts of rum contraptions in country parts."