She spoke with authority, having attended many veterinary classes. Mr. Rodney hesitated; he had never handled a cutlet in his life, and he feared to begin a new career in middle age.
"Oh, take it away!" reiterated the Duchess; "it has been in ice! Oh, take it from me!"
"I—really——" stammered poor Mr. Rodney, while the Duchess leaned far forward, bending down her head and shutting her eyes in anticipation of the operation. "Duke, I think it would be better if you——"
But the Duke was busily engaged in having fits of laughter, so Mr. Rodney, flushing a brick red, hovered his long white hands above the unwelcome intruder.
"Oh, be quick!" cried the Duchess. "For Heaven's sake be quick; it feels like leeches."
"Here, clear out!" bellowed Mr. Bush to Mr. Rodney, who still shrank from clasping an edible, and seizing her Grace with his huge hands, he tore the cutlet from her with manly resolution. The Duchess breathed again, while Mrs. Verulam's eyes became dewy with happy tears that sprang unbidden at this fresh instance of her hero's valour. How different from Mr. Rodney's pusillanimity! Mr. Bush threw the cutlet to a manservant and burst out a-guffawing. It seemed he really had a delicate sense of humour. The Duchess turned to him.
"Thank you!" she said with genuine emotion. "It would have killed me in another moment. Thank you—thank you, Mr. Bush!"
Mr. Bush still roared with all the grand simplicity of a homely nature.
"But how did it happen?" said Mrs. Verulam.