would come a linguistic effort by which even he freely confessed
himself baffled, and then they would pass on unsatisfied. But, as a
rule, he was equal to the emergency. He was so now.

"What Bertie means," he explained, "is that it's no good us waiting for
M'Todd to come back. He never could fill a kettle in less than ten
minutes, and even then he's certain to spill it coming upstairs and
have to go back again. Let's get on with the sausages."

The pan had just been placed on the fire when M'Todd returned with the
water. He tripped over the mat as he entered, and spilt about half a
pint into one of his football boots, which stood inside the door, but
the accident was comparatively trivial, and excited no remark.

"I wonder where that slacker Shoeblossom has got to," said Barry. "He
never turns up in time to do any work. He seems to regard himself as a
beastly guest. I wish we could finish the sausages before he comes. It
would be a sell for him."

"Not much chance of that," said Drummond, who was kneeling before the
fire and keeping an excited eye on the spluttering pan, "_you_
see. He'll come just as we've finished cooking them. I believe the man
waits outside with his ear to the keyhole. Hullo! Stand by with the
plate. They'll be done in half a jiffy."

Just as the last sausage was deposited in safety on the plate, the door
opened, and Shoeblossom, looking as if he had not brushed his hair
since early childhood, sidled in with an attempt at an easy nonchalance
which was rendered quite impossible by the hopeless state of his
conscience.