"Tripped over the mat, I expect," he volunteered feebly.
"You silly owl," roared Bill, exasperated no less by the discomfort of his Hebe than by the waste of his drink. "Don't you know yet what 'appens if you bring out the Button in front of the servants? Down they goes an' down they stays. Put it away, quick, or you'll be drownin' the girl. 'Ere, Lucy, 'op it an' get dried."
Lucy, dripping with beer, fled, and Alf, looking rather sheepish, once again produced the Button.
He hesitated.
"You know," he said, "I 'ardly like to—I mean, we 'ad Eustace up on'y yesterday, you know. If we 'ave 'im again now won't 'e be fed up?"
"Let 'im," said Bill. "S'long as you don't ask 'im for a rook's egg, 'e can't turn nasty. An' any'ow you've got to 'ave 'im to swop the furniture, so 'e may as well do the two jobs together. And for 'eving's sake let's 'ave a few tasty pictures on the walls, an' some ornaments an' things. We want to make the place a bit 'omey."
"'Ave whatever you like," replied Alf. "You knows more about that sort o' thing than what I do."
He rubbed the Button.
* * * * * * *