"I see," says he, noddin' his head. "Holding a sale, is he? On one of
the upper floors?"

"Top," says I. "Quite a classy little studio joint he's made up there."

"Oh, he has, has he?" says the old boy, snappin' his eyes. "Well, of
all the confounded--er--young man, ring that bell!"

Say, how was I goin' to know? I was beginnin' to suspect that this
chatty streak of mine wa'n't goin' to turn out lucky for someone; but
it's gone too far to hedge. I pushes the button, and in comes the
butler.

"Tupper," says the old man, glarin' at him shrewd, "you know where the
top-floor studio is, don't you?"

"Ye-e-es, Sir," says Tapper, almost chokin' over it.

"You'll find Mr. and Mrs. Bladen there," goes on old Grouchy. "Ask
them to step down here for a moment at once."

Listened sort of mussy from where I sat, and I wa'n't findin' the
armchair quite so comf'table. "Guess I'll be loafin' along," says I,
casual.

"You'll stay just where you are for the present!" says he, wheelin'
himself across the door-way.

"Oh, well, if you insist," says I.