"Top-hats are rubbish. I've only brought a straw."
Mr. Rodney turned as pale as ashes.
"I sha'n't wear nought but a straw to-morrer," proceeded the paragon with heavy calmness.
"A savage custom?" squeaked Lady Drake enquiringly.
"I hate a man to be over-dressed," ejaculated Miss Bindler approvingly.
"I beg your pardon," Mr. Rodney said suddenly, in a trembling voice—"I beg your pardon, but I must venture to say that I feel certain Major Clement will turn a—a straw off the lawn. Knowing him as I do, I feel confidently certain of it." And he cast a glance of passionate beseeching upon Mrs. Verulam.
For once she came to his rescue.
"I quite agree with Mr. Bush," she said; "a straw is much more sensible—"
"Merciful heavens!" in an under cry of acute anguish from Mr. Rodney.
"In every way. But at the same time, Mr. Bush, don't you think that custom should occasionally be adhered to?"