Now, then, Mr. Goodfellow, if
you'll hand out the cupboard. By the way, sonny, I hope Miss
Plinlimmon can give us breakfast. I'm as hungry as a hunter, for my
part, and deserve it, too, after a good night's work. With my
fol-de-rol, diddledy--" He started to hum, but checked himself
shamefacedly. "There I go again, and I beg your pardon! 'Tis the
most difficult thing in the world to me to behave myself in a house
of mourning."
Mr. Goodfellow by this time had clambered down, and was embracing the
corner cupboard as though he had parted from it for an age, instead
of for fifty seconds at the farthest.
"Carry it indoors, but don't open it till I'm ready," commanded Mr.
Rogers, stooping under the filly to loosen her belly-band.
"I'm a magistrate, remember, and these things must be done in order.
You come along with me, Harry; that is, if you have the key in your
pocket."
"I have, sir."
"Right! Then come along with me, and you'll be out of harm's way."
So, while Mr. Goodfellow carried the cupboard into the house, Mr.
Rogers and I attended to the filly.
This took, maybe, twenty minutes; but Mr. Rogers was a sportsman,
and thought of his horse before himself. Not till all was done,
and well done, did he announce again that he was devilish peckish;
nor did I take the measure of his meaning until, returning to the
breakfast-room where Mr.
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