Читать книгу Stand Fast, Craig-Royston! (Volume I) - Black William - Страница 3

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" called out old George Bethune.

There appeared a middle-aged man, of medium height, who looked like a butler out of employment; he was pale and flabby of face, with nervous eyes expressive of a sort of imbecile amiability.

"Ah, Hobson!" said Mr. Bethune, in his lofty manner. "Well?"

The landlady's husband came forward in the humblest possible fashion; and his big, prominent, vacuous eyes seemed to be asking for a little consideration and goodwill.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said he, in the most deplorable of Cockney accents, "I 'umbly beg your pardon for making so bold; but knowing as you was so fond of everything Scotch, I took the liberty of bringing you a sample of something very special – a friend of mine, sir, recommended it – and then says I to him, 'Lor bless ye, I don't know nothing about Highland whiskey; but there's a gentleman in our 'ouse who is sure to be a judge, and if I can persuade him to try it, he'll be able to say if it's the real sort.'"

"All right, Hobson," said George Bethune, in his grand way. "Some other time I will see what it is like."

"Thank you, sir, thank you!" said the ex-butler, with earnest gratitude; and he went and placed the bottle on the sideboard. Then he came back, and hesitatingly took out an envelope from his pocket. "And if I might ask another favour, sir. You see, sir, in this 'ot weather people won't go to the theatres; and they're not doing much; and my brother-in-law, the theatrical agent, he's glad to get the places filled up, to make a show, sir, as you might say. And I've got two dress-circle seats, if you and the young lady was thinking of going to the theatre to-morrow night. It's a great favour, sir, as my brother-in-law said to me as he was a-giving me the tickets and arsking me to get 'em used."