“What the deuce do you mean?” shouted old Blumenfield. “Don’t yell at me across the footlights!”

“I’ve a dashed good mind to come down and spank that little brute!”

“What!”

“A dashed good mind!”

Old Blumenfield swelled like a pumped-up tyre. He got rounder than ever.

“See here, mister⁠—I don’t know your darn name⁠—!”

“My name’s Bassington-Bassington, and the jolly old Bassington-Bassingtons⁠—I mean the Bassington-Bassingtons aren’t accustomed⁠—”