"
"Quite the thing, Melissa," said Diggs approvingly. "Quite the thing,
my dear. And did the men deliver the ham and firewood I--ahem! I beg
pardon!"
"Are we to have firewood for dinner to-night, Diggs?" inquired Mr.
Bingle, his voice trembling a little despite his good-natured smile.
"Oh, you stupid, blundering English," cried Melissa in a voice that
shrivelled Diggs.
"That's it, sir, I AM a stupid, blundering Englishman right enough.
Blooming fool, sir, if you please. I didn't hintend to mention
anythink but the ham. The confounded firewood slipped in, sir.
'Owever, I trust you'll overlook it, sir."
"I'm not overlooking firewood in this weather, Diggs," said Mr. Bingle
drily. "Won't you sit down? Excuse me for not--"
"Oh, no, sir, thank you. I 'ave my duties to perform. Really, sir, I--
"
"Go out into the kitchen, Mr. Diggs," commanded Melissa sharply. "God
gave you a tongue, but he didn't give you anything to hold it with."
"Quite so, quite so," agreed the flustered Mr. Diggs, edging toward
the kitchen whence through the open door came sounds of rattling pans
and the penetrating but comforting scent of stewed chicken.
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