Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected. It’s not you—not a bit. An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane. "Your master wants a few table-spoons, child," said Mrs. What ho! lights! lights!" And, shouting as he went, he flung himself down stairs. He had not thought to find a lady so ready of humour and willing to give him a hearing. Presently she became aware of footsteps hurrying after her, and glanced back to find Miss Klegg, a little out of breath, in pursuit. But in the train going home her aunt reasoned it out. And then came the vile experience of being forced and borne along the street to the police-station. Makes one want to go back to the Oriental system!” Mr. "I could hang him now if I liked. .
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