"You're quite welcome," said the steward, sharply. "Crimping ain't in my line; I'd sooner sweep the roads."
"'Ear, 'ear," exclaimed Mr. Smith, approvingly. "Ah! wot a thing it is to come acrost an honest man. Wot a good thing it is for the eyesight."
He stared stonily somewhere in the direction of Mr. Wilks, and then blinking rapidly shielded his eyes with his hand as though overcome by the sight of so much goodness. The steward's wrath rose at the performance, and he glowered back at him until his eyes watered.
"Twenty past six," said Mr. Smith, suddenly, as he fumbled in his waistcoat-pocket and drew out a small folded paper. "It's time I made a start. I s'pose you've got some salt in the house?"
"Plenty," said Mr. Wilks.
"And beer?" inquired the other.
"Yes, there is some beer," said the steward.
"Bring me a quart of it," said the boarding-master, slowly and impressively. "I want it drawed in a china mug, with a nice foaming 'ead on it."
"Wot do you want it for?" inquired Mr. Wilks, eyeing him very closely.
"Bisness purposes," said Mr. Smith. "If you're very good you shall see 'ow I do it."