turn unfolded from its
manifold wrappings a red-herring. Sticking this on the end of his
knife he held it before the bars. Soon the room was flooded with a
smell of burning red-herring and frying steak.

When Bindle entered a minute later he sniffed at the air in
astonishment.

"Wot the 'ell are you up to?" he cried. "'Ere, Ginger, chuck that
thing on the fire. As for you, 'Uggles, you ought to be ashamed o'
yourself. Ain't you never been in a drawin'-room before? I'm surprised
at 'im an' you, 'Uggles, that I am. Ginger, chuck that thing on the
fire," he commanded.

Huggles muttered something about it being his dinner hour.

"I don't 'old wiv wastin' food," began Ginger.

"I don't care wot you 'old with, Ging, you got to chuck that sojer on
the fire."

"It's only an 'erring," began Ginger.

"Yes; but it's got the stink of a whale," cried Bindle.

Reluctantly Ginger removed the sizzling morsel from the end of his
knife and threw it on the fire, just as Mrs. Marlings entered. She
gave a little cry as the pungent smell of Huggles' and Ginger's
dinners smote her nostrils.

"Oh!" she cried, starting back, "whathever 'as 'appened? What a
dreadful smell! Where can it----"

"It's Ginger forgot 'isself, mum," explained Bindle, with a withering
glance in the direction of his subordinate. "'E thought 'e was in an
'Un dug-out. You see, mum, Ginger ain't 'appy in 'is 'ome life."

"But--but--look, it's hon the fire," cried Mrs. Marlings, pointing to
Ginger's dinner, at which he was gazing with an expression that was a
tragedy of regret.

When excited Mrs. Marlings had some difficulty with her aspirates.
"Oh! Mr. Wilton," she cried to the butler, who entered at that moment,
and stood regarding the scene as Achilles might have viewed the
reverses of the Greeks. "Oh! Mr. Wilton! take hit away, please, hit
will poison us."

With his head held well in the air Mr. Wilton beckoned to John, who
walked to the fireplace. With a majestic motion of his hand Mr. Wilton
indicated to the footman that Ginger's offending dinner was to be
removed. Gravely John took up the tongs, deliberately gripping the
herring amidships, and turned towards the door, holding it aloft as if
it were some sacred symbol.

Ginger's eyes were glued to the blackened shape.

"It ain't every red 'errin' wot 'as a funeral like that," remarked
Bindle to Ginger.

Mr. Wilton threw open the door. Suddenly John started back and
retreated, the herring still he