Philip, quite overwhelmed by this convincing coincidence of judgment, announced humbly that he would take the curtain-pole.
"I had better pay for it now," he said.
"One moment, sir, if you please!" replied Mrs. Grice.
Darting out on to the landing she reappeared almost instantly, heralded by a sonorous clang, carrying a bedroom ewer and basin.
"Now these things, sir," she announced, "belongs to Grice. They were Sir Percy's present to him. 'Grice,' he said, just as he was leaving to marry Lady Ader Evings, 'this jug and basin are yours now: they are my present from me to you.' Didn't he, Grice?"
Mr. Grice was understood to mumble assent. Mrs. Grice took another breath. It is hardly necessary to add that within the next thirty seconds Philip had become the reluctant owner of a chipped jug and basin, recently the property of a baronet.
Mrs. Grice swept on.
"Now, sir," she continued, with unabated vigour, "these fire-irons—"
But at this moment, to Philip's unspeakable relief, Timothy arrived, and took command of the situation at once. Philip put on his hat and went for a walk in the Park.
"We had great fun," reported Timothy on his return. "The last thing she tried to sell me was the fireplace. (I think it was Sir Percy's parting gift to the cat.) I said that I had no money and that they had better take it away. That spiked her guns. And now, my lad, you are going to put on your best duds and come poodle-faking with me!"