"And what is it doing in my drawing-room?" demanded Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick with ominous calm.

"It was smellin', mum," broke in Bindle, "an' we was gettin' Calves to take it out. It's all through Ginger, 'e likes tasty food; but 'e ain't 'appy----"

"Hold your tongue!" said Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick, turning to Bindle and withering him through her lorgnettes.

She turned once more to her major-domo.

"Wilton," she demanded, "what is the meaning of this outrage?"

"It's the billets, my lady."

"The what?"

"The billets, my lady."

"I haven't ordered any billets. What are billets?"

Suddenly her eye caught sight of the bust of the late Sir Benjamin Biggs.

"Who did that?" Rage had triumphed over self-control.

All eyes turned to the marble lineaments of the late Sir Benjamin's features. Never had that worthy knight presented so disreputable an appearance as he did with Huggles' hat stuck upon his head at a rakish angle.

"It must have been one of the workmen, my lady." Mr. Wilton tiptoed over to the bust and removed the offending headgear, placing it on a bundle of bedding.

"One of the workmen!" stormed Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick. "Is everybody mad?

What is being done with my drawing-room?"

Bindle stepped forward.

"We come from 'Arridges, mum, with the beds an' things for the soldiers."

"For the what?" demanded her ladyship.

"For the soldiers' billets, mum," explained Bindle. "You're goin' to billet sixteen soldiers 'ere."

"Billet sixteen soldiers!" almost screamed her ladyship, red in the face.

With great deliberation Bindle pulled out the delivery-note from behind his green baize ap.r.o.n, and read solemnly: "'Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick, The Poplars, Putney 'Ill.' That's you, mum, ain't it?"

Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick continued to stare at him stonily.

"'Sixteen bedsteads, bedding, four baths, four washin' stands, etcetera.' There's a rare lot of etceteras, mum. 'Fit up bedsteads in drawin'-room for billetin' soldiers, carefully storin' at one end of room existin' furniture.' There ain't no mistake," said Bindle solemnly. "It's all on this 'ere paper, which was 'anded to me by the foreman this mornin'. There ain't no mistake, mum, really."

"But I tell you there is a mistake," cried Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick angrily.

"I have no intention of billeting soldiers _in my drawing-room_."

"Well, mum," said Bindle, shaking his head as if it were useless to fight against destiny, "it's all down 'ere on this 'ere paper, and if you're Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick"--he referred to the paper again--"of The Poplars, Putney 'Ill, then you want these soldiers, sure as eggs.

P'raps you forgotten," he added with illumination.

"Forgotten what?" demanded Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick.

"Forgotten that you want sixteen soldiers, mum."

"Halt!"

A sharp snapping sound from without. Everybody turned to the window.

The situation had become intensely dramatic. Bindle walked over, and looked out. Then turning to Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick he said triumphantly:

"'Ere's the sixteen soldiers, mum, so there ain't no mistake."

"The what?" demanded Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick looking about her helplessly.

"The sixteen soldiers with all their kit," said Bindle. "I counted 'em," he added, as if to remove any glimmer of doubt that might still exist in Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick's mind.

"Is everybody mad?" Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick fixed her eyes upon Wilton.

Wilton looked towards the door, which opened to admit John, who had seized the occasion of the diversion to slip out with Ginger's dinner.

"The soldiers, my lady," he announced.

There was a tremendous tramping on the stairs, and a moment afterwards fifteen soldiers in the charge of a sergeant streamed in, each bearing his kit-bag, rifle, etc.

The men gazed about them curiously.

The sergeant looked bewildered at so many people being grouped to receive them. After a hasty glance round he saluted Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick, then he removed his cap, the men one by one sheepishly following suit.

"I hope we haven't come too soon, your ladyship?"

Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick continued to stare at him through her lorgnettes.

Wilton stepped forward.

"There has been a mistake. Her Ladyship cannot billet soldiers."

The sergeant looked puzzled. He drew a paper from his pocket, and read the address aloud: "'Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick, The Poplars, Putney Hill, will billet sixteen soldiers in her drawing-room, she will also cater for them.'"

"Cater for them!" almost shrieked Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick. "Cater for sixteen soldiers! I haven't ordered sixteen soldiers."

"I'm very sorry," said the sergeant, "but it's--it's----" The man looked at the paper he held in his hand.

"I don't care what you've got there," said Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick rudely.

"Strint!"

Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick had suddenly caught sight of Miss Strint.

"Yes, my lady?" responded Miss Strint.

"Did I order sixteen soldiers?" demanded Lady k.n.o.b-Kerrick in a tone she always adopted with servants when she wanted confirmation.