.) I
beg
your pardon, you were describing how you caught a tunny? Pray continue.
Mr. Bellerby (stiffly). Excuse me, I don't seem fortunate enough to have secured your undivided attention.
Culch. (with intense interest). Quite the contrary, I assure you! You were saying you always ordered it out of economy?
Mr. B. Pardon me—I was saying nothing of the sort. I was saying that I told the Manager I knew that was why he thought I ordered it—a rather different thing! "You're quite wrong," I said. "You may pay twopence-halfpenny a pound for it, and charge me half-a-crown, if you like, but I mean to taste that tunny!" I was determined not to be done out of my tunny, Sir!
Culch. (breathlessly). And what did the tunny—I mean the Manager—say to that?
Mr. B. Oh, made more difficulties—it wasn't to be got, and so on. At last I said to him (very quietly, but he saw I was in earnest), "Now I tell you what it is—I'm going to have that tunny, and, if you refuse to give it me,—well, I shall just send my courier out for it, that's all!" So, with, that, they brought me some—and anything more delicious I never tasted in all my life!
Culch. (to himself). If I can only keep him on at this tunny! (Aloud.) And—er—what does it taste like exactly, now?
Mr. B. (pregnantly), You order it, Sir—insist on having it. Then you'll know what it tastes like! [He devotes himself to his soup.