"But this is nonsense," exclaimed the hostess.

"It seemed to me somewhat unusual," Corney replied; "but it has
always been my privilege to dine with the company I am asked to
entertain. I took it you had arranged a little treat for the
servants."

And Corney left to catch his train.

Another entertainer told me the following story, although a joke
against himself. He and Corney Grain were sharing a cottage on the
river. A man called early one morning to discuss affairs, and was
talking to Corney in the parlour, which was on the ground floor. The
window was open. The other entertainer--the man who told me the
story--was dressing in the room above. Thinking he recognised the
voice of the visitor below, he leant out of his bedroom window to
hear better. He leant too far, and dived head foremost into a bed of
flowers, his bare legs--and only his bare legs--showing through the
open window of the parlour.

"Good gracious!" exclaimed the visitor, turning at the moment and
seeing a pair of wriggling legs above the window sill; "who's that?"

Corney fixed his eyeglass and strolled to the window.

"Oh, it's only What's-his-name," he explained. "Wonderful spirits.
Can be funny in the morning."