“It’s sausages, Sir, asking you to excuse me, it’s sausages. Mr. Urquhart has to have ’em these days for breakfast, and there ain’t none of ’em in the house; and I am too set out, what with horses to clean and artichokes to plant and pigs in the yard to feed, to go to town myself.”

Wolf smiled in as grave and well-bred a manner as he could. “I’ll be very glad to bring you home some sausages, Monk,” he said amiably.