He retired precipitately at a hysterical shriek from the kitchen-maid and a roar of fury from the butler.
“You’d better go an’ do your potatoes in the pantry,” said the cook to the kitchenmaid, “and let’s ’ave a bit of peace in ’ere and see ’e’s doin’ of ’is work all right.”
The kitchenmaid departed joyfully to the pantry.
William was sitting by the table, idly toying with a knife. He had experimented upon the knife powder by mixing it with water, and the little brown pies that were the result lay in a row on the mantelpiece. He had also tasted it, as the dark stains upon his lips testified. His hair was standing straight up on his head as it always did when life was strenuous. He began the conversation.
“You’d be surprised,” he said, “if you knew what I really was.”
She giggled.
“Go on!” she said. “What are you?”
“I’m a gold-digger,” he said. “I’ve got ship-loads an’ ship-loads of gold. At least, I will have soon. I’m not goin’ to give him,” pointing towards the door, “any, nor any of them in there.”
“Wot about me?” said the kitchenmaid, winking at the cat as the only third person to be let into the joke.
“You,” said William graciously, “shall have a whole lot of nuggets. Look here.” With a princely flourish he took up a knife and cut off three buttons from the middle of his coat and gave them to her. “You keep those and they’ll be kind of tokens. See? When I come home rich you show me the buttons an’ I’ll remember and give you the nuggets. See? I’ll maybe marry you,” he promised, “if I’ve not married anyone else.”