“More embarrassments were to follow. I wasn’t going to let a mere ordinary flood wash out the memory of that Crown Derby dessert service, and I intimated to the Bishop that his large bedroom, with a writing table in it, and his small bathroom, with a sufficiency of cold-water jars in it, was his share of the premises, and that space was rather congested under the existing circumstances. However, at about three o’clock in the afternoon, when he had awakened from his midday sleep, he made a sudden incursion into the room that was normally the drawing-room, but was now dining-room, storehouse, saddle-room, and half a dozen other temporary premises as well. From the condition of my guest’s costume he seemed to think it might also serve as his dressing-room.

“ ‘I’m afraid there is nowhere for you to sit,’ I said coldly; ‘the verandah is full of goats.’

“ ‘There is a goat in my bedroom,’ he observed with equal coldness, and more than a suspicion of sardonic reproach.

“ ‘Really,’ I said, ‘another survivor? I thought all the other goats were done for.’