"Then order your second to stop mulching or marling, or whatever the devil he's doing over there. Come out onto the grass, and we'll have it out fairly."
Mr. Bush scratched his head with his right thumb, looked sleepy, and then called out in a prodigious voice:
"Jacob! Jacob!"
"Darn it all, I hear ye!" retorted Mr. Minnidick, who was following some mysterious profession connected with manure in the middle distance. "What d'ye want a-now?"
"Give over, Jacob!"
Mr. Minnidick gave over, and stood idle with a bitter face.
"Come here, I tell yer!" continued Mr. Bush.
Mr. Minnidick came rheumatically.
"Well?" said the paragon to the Duke—"well?"
"Take your hoe and follow me, sir," said the Duke, and he marched in grim silence to a plot of grass adjacent to the mushroom-house, slowly followed by the rest of the party.