"I say, Eustace," he said querulously, "'ow the 'ell am I goin' to look after a lot o' niggers as don't understand a word I says to 'em? Can't you get me an English 'ousemaid or two?"
"Can't be got," said Bill. "I read it in a paper t'other day. They called it the Servant Problem. You be thankful you've got these. An' very nice too!" he finished, his eyes on two langorous-eyed maidens in brilliant draperies who were descending the stairs.
"Lord," said Eustace, "none are there of thy speech among the slaves of the Button. But thy steward"—he indicated the personage who had welcomed them, now waiting patiently till he should be required again—"he is skilled in thy tongue, and through him will these thy servants perform all thy will. His name is Mustapha."
Eustace disappeared.
"Phew!" said Bill, looking about him. "All gold, an' silk, an' marble! Looks more like one o' them pantomime scenes than a real 'ouse, don't it? An' all them niggers, an' the girls an' all. An' 'im!"
He indicated once more the major-domo.
"Ain't much furniture about, is there?" said Alf after a pause. "Only sofas an' things."
"No. That's Eustace an' 'is old-fashioned ideas. Don't matter, though. Anything we want later on we can send 'im for. What I want now's a drink. Tell 'im."
"What did Eustace say 'is name was?"
"Mr. Farr, I think. Something like that. Call 'im an' see if 'e answers."