“No, Adams; I seldom visit London nowadays.  London does not attract me.  The country—­the fields—­the woods—­the birds——­”

Something across the room seemed to attract his attention and his voice trailed off.  He inspected this for some time with bland interest, then turned to Adams once more.

“What was I saying, Adams?”

“The birds, your lordship.”

“Birds!  What birds?  What about birds?”

“You were speaking of the attractions of life in the country, your lordship.  You included the birds in your remarks.”

“Oh, yes, yes, yes!  Oh, yes, yes!  Oh, yes—­to be sure.  Do you ever go to the country, Adams?”

“Generally to the seashore, your lordship—­when I take my annual vacation.”

Whatever was the attraction across the room once more exercised its spell.  His lordship concentrated himself on it to the exclusion of all other mundane matters.  Presently he came out of his trance again.

“What were you saying, Adams?”

“I said that I generally went to the seashore, your lordship.”

“Eh?  When?”

“For my annual vacation, your lordship.”

“Your what?”

“My annual vacation, your lordship.”

“What about it?”

Adams never smiled during business hours—­unless professionally, as it were, when a member made a joke; but he was storing up in the recesses of his highly respectable body a large laugh, to be shared with his wife when he reached home that night.  Mrs. Adams never wearied of hearing of the eccentricities of the members of the club.  It occurred to Adams that he was in luck to-day.  He was expecting a little party of friends to supper that night, and he was a man who loved an audience.

You would never have thought it, to look at him when engaged in his professional duties, but Adams had built up a substantial reputation as a humorist in his circle by his imitations of certain members of the club; and it was a matter of regret to him that he got so few opportunities nowadays of studying the absent-minded Lord Emsworth.  It was rare luck—­his lordship coming in to-day, evidently in his best form.

“Adams, who is the gentleman over by the window—­the gentleman in the brown suit?”

“That is Mr. Simmonds, your lordship.  He joined us last year.”

“I never saw a man take such large mouthfuls.  Did you ever see a man take such large mouthfuls, Adams?”

Adams refrained from expressing an opinion, but inwardly he was thrilling with artistic fervor.  Mr. Simmonds eating, was one of his best imitations, though Mrs. Adams was inclined to object to it on the score that it was a bad example for the children.  To be privileged to witness Lord Emsworth watching and criticizing Mr. Simmonds was to collect material for a double-barreled character study that would assuredly make the hit of the evening.

“That man,” went on Lord Emsworth, “is digging his grave with his teeth.  Digging his grave with his teeth, Adams!  Do you take large mouthfuls, Adams?”