They rushed out. At the end of the passage Miss de Lisle and the irreproachable Allenby struggled in a heap—in an ever-widening pool of water that came from an overturned bucket lying a yard away. The family rushed to the rescue. Allenby got to his feet as they arrived, and dragged up the drenched cook-lady. He was pale with apprehension.
“I—I—do beg your pardon, mum!” he gasped. “I ’adn’t an idea in me ’ead there was any one there, least of all you on your knees. I just come backin’ out with the bucket!”
“I say, Miss de Lisle, are you hurt?” Jim asked anxiously.
“Not a bit, which is queer, considering Allenby’s weight!” returned Miss de Lisle. “But it’s—it’s just t-too funny, isn’t it!” She broke into a shout of laughter, and the others, who had, indeed, been choking with repressed feeling, followed suit. Allenby, after a gallant attempt to preserve the correct demeanour of a butler, unchanged by any circumstance, suddenly bolted into the kitchen like a rabbit. They heard strange sounds from the direction of the sink.
“But, I say, you’re drenched!” said Jim, when every one felt a little better.
Miss de Lisle glanced at her stained and dripping overall.
“Well, a little. I’ll take this off,” she said, suiting the action to the word, and appearing in a white blouse and grey skirt which suited her very much better than the roseate garment. “But my floor! And I had it so beautifully polished!” she raised her voice. “Allenby! What are you going to do about this floor?”
“Indeed, mum, I’ve made a pretty mess of it,” said Allenby, reappearing.
“You have, indeed,” said she.
“But I never expected to find you ’ere a-polishin’,” said the bewildered ex-sergeant.