"Wait a bit. After crabbin' it, he pretended to be interested in other things; and then he began to act queer. He'd slipped a bit o' soap into his mouth, so as to froth proper."
"Gracious me! Why!" asked Mrs. Biddlecombe.
"Then he went into a regular fit, fell down, and as he fell grabbed the little table, and broke off one of its pretty spindle legs. When he come out of his fit, my agent said that the least thing a gentleman could do was to buy the table he'd spoiled. The old lady took a fiver as compensation, and jolly glad she was to get it. I sold that table to an American millionaire for one hundred and twenty-five—guineas!"
Mrs. Biddlecombe rose majestically. She saw that her son-in-law was laughing.
"Come, Susan, let us leave these gentlemen to their wine."
Susan followed her out of the room. When the door was shut behind them, Quinney said:
"Old man, that yarn was a bit too thick for 'em. See?"
Tomlin laughed boisterously.
"One more glass of port," he replied, "and I'll tell you another."
He told several; and when the men returned to the small drawing-room, Susan said timidly that her mother had gone back to Laburnum Row. Later, when she was alone with her husband, she asked a sharp question: