“You’ll finish them knives, my boy,” he said, “or——”
William considered the weight and size of Mr. Biggs.
“All right,” he said pacifically. “I’ll finish the knives.”
He disappeared, closing the pantry door behind him.
“’E’s goin’ to be a trile,” said the cook, “an’ no mistake.”
“Trile’s ’ardly the word,” said Mr. Biggs.
“Haffliction,” supplied the housemaid.
“That’s more like it,” said Mr. Biggs.
Here William’s head appeared again.
“Wot time’s supper?” he said.