"I wish certain parts of the house to be reopened," I said, "and to be

furnished, exactly as they were furnished at this time last year."

Betteredge gave his imperfectly-pointed pencil a preliminary lick with

his tongue. "Name the parts, Mr. Jennings!" he said loftily.

"First, the inner hall, leading to the chief staircase."

"'First, the inner hall,'" Betteredge wrote. "Impossible to furnish

that, sir, as it was furnished last year--to begin with."

"Why?"

"Because there was a stuffed buzzard, Mr. Jennings, in the hall last

year. When the family left, the buzzard was put away with the other

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things. When the buzzard was put away--he burst."

"We will except the buzzard then."

Betteredge took a note of the exception. "'The inner hall to be

furnished again, as furnished last year. A burst buzzard alone

excepted.' Please to go on, Mr. Jennings."

"The carpet to be laid down on the stairs, as before."

"'The carpet to be laid down on the stairs, as before.' Sorry to

disappoint you, sir. But that can't be done either."

"Why not?"

"Because the man who laid that carpet down is dead, Mr. Jennings--and

the like of him for reconciling together a carpet and a corner, is not

to be found in all England, look where you may."

"Very well. We must try the next best man in England."

Betteredge took another note; and I went on issuing my directions.

"Miss Verinder's sitting-room to be restored exactly to what it was

last year. Also, the corridor leading from the sitting-room to the first

landing. Also, the second corridor, leading from the second landing to

the best bedrooms. Also, the bedroom occupied last June by Mr. Franklin

Blake."

Betteredge's blunt pencil followed me conscientiously, word by word.

"Go on, sir," he said, with sardonic gravity. "There's a deal of writing

left in the point of this pencil yet."

I told him that I had no more directions to give. "Sir," said

Betteredge, "in that case, I have a point or two to put on my own

behalf." He opened the pocket-book at a new page, and gave the

inexhaustible pencil another preliminary lick.

"I wish to know," he began, "whether I may, or may not, wash my

hands----"

"You may decidedly," said Mr. Blake. "I'll ring for the waiter."

"----of certain responsibilities," pursued Betteredge, impenetrably

declining to see anybody in the room but himself and me. "As to Miss

Verinder's sitting-room, to begin with. When we took up the carpet

last year, Mr. Jennings, we found a surprising quantity of pins. Am I

responsible for putting back the pins?"




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