“Please, sir,” said Parson, “we’re all awfully sorry. It was quite an accident, really.”
“What was an accident?” demanded Mr Parrett.
“Why, you getting mauled about like—”
“Tell me, Parson,” said Mr Parrett, pinching himself to keep himself grave, “was it an accident that your water-can was hung over the door and the string stretched across the bottom of it?”
“Oh no, sir; not that, but—”
“Was it an accident that you had missiles in your hands and threw them in the direction of the door as it was opened?”
“No, sir.”
“Then, sir, what was the accident?”
“You were the accident, please, sir,” said Parson, sadly.
“I guessed so. And for whom were these preparations intended, pray?”