"Did he send you to me?" she replied, impertinently taking me for a waiter. "My!" she added, after a second scrutiny, "I b'lieve you're one of them. His missis is a bit better, and I was to tell him as she took all the tapiocar."
"How could you tell him?" I asked.
"I was to do like this," she replied, and went through the supping of something out of a plate in dumb show.
"That would not show she ate all the tapioca," I said.
"But I was to end like this," she answered, licking an imaginary plate with her tongue. I gave her a shilling (to get rid of her), and returned to the club disgusted.
Later in the evening I had to go to the club library for a book, and while William was looking in vain for it (I had forgotten the title) I said to him:
"By the way, William, Mr. Myddleton Finch is to tell the committee that he was mistaken in the charge he brought against you, so you will doubtless be restored to the dining-room to-morrow."
The two members were still in their chairs, probably sleeping lightly; yet he had the effrontery to thank me.
"Don't thank me," I said, blushing at the imputation. "Remember your place, William!"
"But Mr. Myddleton Finch knew I swore," he insisted.