“I beg pardon, sir,” said Gluck, at length, after watching the water spreading in long quicksilver-like streams over the floor for a quarter of an hour; “mayn’t I take your cloak?”
“No, thank you,” said the old gentleman.
“Your cap, sir?”
“I am all right, thank you,” said the old gentleman, rather gruffly.
“But—sir—I’m very sorry,” said Gluck, hesitatingly, “but—really, sir—you’re—putting the fire out.”
“It’ll take longer to do the mutton, then,” replied his visitor, dryly.
Gluck was very much puzzled by the behavior of his guest, it was such a strange mixture of coolness and humility. He turned away at the string thoughtfully for another five minutes.
“That mutton looks very nice,” said the old gentleman. “Can’t you give me a little bit?”
“Impossible, sir,” said Gluck.
“I’m very hungry,” continued the old gentleman. “I’ve had nothing to eat yesterday nor to-day. They surely couldn’t miss a bit from the knuckle!”