CHAPTER VII.
SIR SAVILE'S OFFER.
"But," said Koko as he handed the letter back to Jim, "how on earth did your local rag get hold of it? I've seen both my friends since, and they assured me they didn't write a line about you."
"I give it up," said Jim; "the fact remains that the old man has got wind of it."
"But isn't this action on his part a bit sudden?" demanded Koko.
"He said he would," said Jim, munching a piece of watercress (Mrs Freeman's unvarying Tuesday breakfast was ham and watercress), "but I didn't think he meant it."
"Perhaps he doesn't mean it," said Koko, hopefully.
"I am very much afraid," returned Jim, "that he does, though. You see, he was already wild with me, as he had had to stump up for that big window I broke--you remember! Twelve quid--that was the bill. He told me about it over the telephone. I wish I'd been able to have a square talk with him, face to face; he wouldn't have been half so wild, I put all this down to that rotten telephone."
"Don't quite perceive how it's to blame," said Koko.
"Don't you! Why, if he tackled me face to face, I could have filled him up with all sorts of promises of reformation, and sent him off for his drive feeling sorry that I was going away. Instead of which he went off in a beastly huff. I should have reminded him--as touching the window--that some fellows charge their paters and grandpaters hundreds and even thousands. I should have explained that twelve pounds was a very light let-off. Hang the telephone!"