"Well?"
He burst out with it, at last. "Are you coming to drink tea with my master?"
"Of course, I am coming! Mr. Gloody, do you know that you rather surprise me?"
"I hope no offence, sir."
"Nonsense! It seems odd, my good fellow, that your master shouldn't have told you I was coming to drink tea with him. Isn't it your business to get the things ready?"
He shifted from one foot to another, and looked as if he wished himself out of my way. At a later time of my life, I have observed that these are signs by which an honest man is apt to confess that he has told, or is going to tell, a lie. As it was, I only noticed that he answered confusedly.
"I can't quite say, Mr. Roylake, that my master didn't mention the thing to me."
"But you failed to understand him—is that it?"
"Well, sir, if I want to ask him anything I have to write it. I'm slow at writing, and bad at writing, and he isn't always patient. However, as you reminded me just now, I have got to get the things ready. To cut it short, perhaps I might say that I didn't quite expect the tea-party would come off."
"Why shouldn't it come off?"