was borne inward in a flying attitude. Mrs. Korner had descended the stairs ready with a few remarks. She had not anticipated that Mr. Korner, usually slow of speech, could be even readier.
“Where's my supper?” indignantly demanded Mr. Korner, still supported by the knocker.
Mrs. Korner, too astonished for words, simply stared.
“Where's my supper?” repeated Mr. Korner, by this time worked up into genuine astonishment that it was not ready for him. “What's everybody mean, going off to bed, when the masterororous hasn't had his supper?”
“Is anything the matter, dear?” was heard the voice of Miss Greene, speaking from the neighbourhood of the first landing.
“Come in, Christopher,” pleaded Mrs. Korner, “please come in, and let me shut the door.”
Mrs. Korner was the type of young lady fond of domineering with a not un-graceful hauteur over those accustomed to yield readily to her; it is a type that is easily frightened.
“I wan' grilled kinneys-on-toast,” explained Mr. Korner, exchanging the knocker for the hat-stand, and wishing the next moment that he had not. “Don' let's 'avareytalk about it. Unnerstan'? I dowan' any talk about it.”
“What on earth am I to do?” whispered the terrified Mrs. Korner to her bosom friend, “there isn't a kidney in the house.”
“I should poach him a couple of eggs,” suggested the helpful bosom friend; “put plenty of Cayenne pepper on them. Very likely he won't remember.”
Mr. Korner allowed himself to be persuaded into the dining-room, which was also the breakfast parlour and the library. The two ladies, joined by the hastily clad staff, whose chronic indignation seemed to have vanished in face of the first excuse for it that Acacia Villa had afforded her, made haste to light the kitchen fire.
“I should never have believed it,” whispered the white-faced Mrs. Korner, “never.”
“Makes yer know there's a man about the 'ouse, don't it?” chirped the delighted staff. Mrs. Korner, for answer, boxed the girl's
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