asked, as he paused.
“Bertie, old man,” said Biffy, deeply concerned, “I’ve absolutely forgotten!”
I stared at the man.
“What I can’t understand,” I said, “is how you manage to run that Herefordshire place of yours for a day. How on earth do you remember to milk the cows and give the pigs their dinner?”
“Oh, that’s all right! There are divers blokes about the places—hirelings and menials, you know—who look after all that.”
“Ah!” I said. “Well, that being so, let us have one more Green Swizzle, and then hey for the Amusement Park.”
When I indulged in those few rather bitter words about exhibitions, it must be distinctly understood that I was not alluding to what you might call the more earthy