club until Peddlington had secured a successor to the departed cook, which
the private secretary succeeded in doing within three days. The baron was
informed of his manager's success, and at the end of a week returned to
Bangletop Hall, arriving there late on a Saturday night, hungry as a bear,
and not too amiable, the king having negotiated a forcible loan with him
during his sojourn in the metropolis.

"Welcome to Bangletop, Baron," said De Herbert, uneasily, as his employer
alighted from his coach.

"Blast your welcome, and serve the dinner," returned the baron, with a
somewhat ill grace.

At this the private secretary seemed much embarrassed. "Ahem!" he said.
"I'll be very glad to have the dinner served, my dear Baron; but the fact
is I--er--I have been unable to provide anything but canned lobster and
apples."

[Illustration]

"What, in the name of Chaucer, does this mean?" roared Bangletop, who was
a great admirer of the father of English poetry; chiefly because, as he
was wont to say, Chaucer showed that a bad speller could be a great man,
which was a condition of affairs exactly suited to his mind, since in the
science of orthography he was weak, like most of the aristocrats of his
day. "I thought you sent me word you had a cook?"

"Yes, Baron, I did; but the fact of the matter is, sir, she left us last
night, or, rather, early this morning."