"Hul-lo!" exclaimed Mr. Teak, groping for the right thing to say.
"Hul-lo! What--what are you doing, Alf?"

Mr. Chase blew the soot from his lips. "I--I--I come 'ome unexpected,"
he stammered.

"But--what are--you doing?" panted Mrs. Teak, in a rising voice.

"I--I was passing your door," said Mr. Chase, "passing your door--to go
to my room to--to 'ave a bit of a rinse, when--"

"Yes," said Mrs. Teak.

Mr. Chase gave Mr. Teak a glance the pathos of which even the soot could
not conceal. "When I--I heard a pore little bird struggling in your
chimbley," he continued, with a sigh of relief. "Being fond of animals,
I took the liberty of comin' into your room and saving its life."

Mr. Teak drew a breath, which he endeavoured in vain to render noiseless.

"It got its pore little foot caught in the brickwork," continued the
veracious Mr. Chase, tenderly. "I released it, and it flowed--I mean
flew--up the chimbley."

With the shamefaced air of a man detected in the performance of a noble
action, he passed out of the room. Husband and wife eyed each other.

"That's Alf--that's Alf all over," said Mr. Teak, with enthusiasm. "He's
been like it from a child. He's the sort of man that 'ud dive off