"Let 'em laugh," he replied, looking round defiantly. "You 'member what Sol-Solomon says about thorns under a pot. The turkey's coming in to dinner with me."
"Pitman," I said, "I'm ashamed of you."
He walked up to the cloak-room, and deposited his coat, hat, and stick. Then he put the turkey into the basket.
"Shall I take that, sir?" inquired the attendant.
"No," said Pitman haughtily; "leave him alone."
"That will be all right," I interposed, giving the man a shilling. I was curious to see what would happen.
Pitman marched downstairs to the grill-room, carrying the basket. The place was crowded.
"I want a table for three," he said to the waiter.
The latter looked at him curiously.
"Shall I take that outside, sir?"