“Everything,” snapped the angry man. “Tuesday is my unlucky day. I believe I was born on a Tuesday.”
Fishpingle politely corrected him.
“No, Sir Geoffrey. You were born on a Wednesday, at 1.45 a. m.”
The Squire turned to Lionel.
“I lost two beauties, and broke the tip of my rod.”
Fishpingle assured him that the tip could be mended in ten minutes. The Squire fumed on:
“Four thoroughbred pigs out of the new litter are dead. Mother overlaid ’em. There are moments when I wish my mother had overlaid me. Bonsor tells me we are nearly out of coal, Ben.”
“I warned you, Sir Geoffrey, that we were running short a fortnight ago.”
“You didn’t. If you had, I should have ordered a fresh supply by return of post. Bonsor says that no coal has been ordered, which proves conclusively that you did not tell me.”
Lionel interrupted.