y? He ought to have known better than to
talk about such 'orrid stuff over his meals."

"Him?" said Sam, with a grin of contempt; "why, he's worse than master."

"He couldn't be, Sam."

"Couldn't? But he is. Master does talk about live people as he does
good to. Mr Landon don't. He began over the curry."

"Made with best curry paste too, and with scraped cocoanut, a squeeze of
lemon, a toemarter, and some slices of apple in, just as old Colonel
Cartelow taught me hisself. Talk about throwing pearls! And pray what
did Mr Landon talk about?"

"Mummies."

"Ugh!" ejaculated cook. "I saw some of 'em once, at the British Museum;
but never no more! The idea of bringing a mummy on to a dinner-table!"

"Ah," said Sam, "it's a good job, old lady, that you don't hear all that
I do."

"So I suppose," said cook, with a snort. "And he calls hisself a
professor!"

"No, no, he don't, old lady. It's other people calls him a professor,
and I suppose he is a very clever man."

"I don't hold with such clever people. I like folks as are clever
enough to understand good cooking. Professor, indeed! I should like to
professor him!"

"Well, master's no better," said Sam. "Look at the trouble I have with
him to keep him decent. If I didn't watch him he'd put on anything. I
can't even keep a book out of his hand when I'm cutting his hair. Only
yesterday he gives a duck down to cut the leaf of his book just at an
awk'ard moment, and of course in goes the point of the scissors."

"Serve him right!" said cook.

"And what do you think he said?"

"Oh, don't ask me."

"Nothing; and I dabbed the place and put a bit o' black court-plaister
on his ear, and I don't hardly believe he even knew of it."

"I'm not surprised," said cook indignantly. "Them two read and read
till they're a pair of regular old scribums. Anyone would think they
were old ancient men instead of being--How old is master?"

"Six years older than me."

"And you're six-and-twenty."

"Yes."

"And a fine, handsome man too."

"Thankye, cook," said Sam, smiling.

"Get out! I don't mean you. Master. How old's the professor?"

"Oh, he's thirty-five," said Sam, in rather a disappointed tone.

"And looks it," said cook. "Well, I wish he'd go abroad again to his
nasty grave-digging in the sands, and then praps master would have
decent people to dine with him. Oh! There's the front bell."

Cook dived down into the lower regions, and Sam op