"No," responded Sylvia absently. "I was looking at your butler. He seems to have something on his mind."
Mr. Stillbottle, who had entered the room two minutes previously, and had been awaiting an opportunity of gaining the ear of the company, took advantage of the partial silence which now ensued.
"A person has called, sir," he announced to Mr. Welwyn, "for to iron the billiard table."
Mr. Welwyn broke off his conversation with Mr. Mainwaring.
"Thank you," he said in an undertone. "Let him do so by all means."
"Yes, sir," replied Mr. Stillbottle, turning to go.
"Tell him," added Percy, highly pleased with the manner in which the little comedy was unfolding itself, "to see if any of the cues want tips."
"Very good," said Mr. Stillbottle, in a voice which plainly asked why Percy should "gag," when he might not.
The door closed once more, and another hurdle was negotiated. The Welwyns heaved little sighs of relief: Russell's was an unnerving presence. But Tilly glanced at the honest, laughing face of the man who loved her, and felt suddenly ashamed.
"Quite a character, that old fellow," said Mr. Welwyn breezily. "Incorrigibly idle; painfully outspoken; a domestic tyrant of the most oppressive type; but honest as the day. I must get some one to put him in a book. Lady Adela, you have nothing to eat."