A faint smile of retrospective enjoyment lit up Albert’s face.  “An orful row!  Shoutin’ and yellin’ and cussin’ all over the shop.  About you and Lidy Maud.”

“And you drank it in, eh?”

“Pardon?”

“I say, you listened?”

“Not ’arf I listened.  Seeing I’d just drawn you in the sweepstike, of course, I listened—­not ’arf!”

George did not follow him here.

“The sweepstike?  What’s a sweepstike?”

“Why, a thing you puts names in ’ats and draw ’em and the one that gets the winning name wins the money.”

“Oh, you mean a sweepstake!”

“That’s wot I said—­a sweepstike.”

George was still puzzled.

“But I don’t understand.  How do you mean you drew me in a sweepstike—­I mean a sweepstake?  What sweepstake?”

“Down in the servants’ ’all.  Keggs, the butler, started it.  I ’eard ’im say he always ’ad one every place ’e was in as a butler—­ leastways, whenever there was any dorters of the ’ouse.  There’s always a chance, when there’s a ’ouse-party, of one of the dorters of the ‘ouse gettin’ married to one of the gents in the party, so Keggs ‘e puts all of the gents’ names in an ’at, and you pay five shillings for a chance, and the one that draws the winning name gets the money.  And if the dorter of the ’ouse don’t get married that time, the money’s put away and added to the pool for the next ’ouse-party.”

George gasped.  This revelation of life below stairs in the stately homes of England took his breath away.  Then astonishment gave way to indignation.

“Do you mean to tell me that you—­you worms—­made Lady Maud the—­the prize of a sweepstake!”

Albert was hurt.

“Who’re yer calling worms?”

George perceived the need of diplomacy.  After all much depended on this child’s goodwill.

“I was referring to the butler—­what’s his name—­Keggs.”

“’E ain’t a worm.  ’E’s a serpint.”  Albert drew at his cigarette.  His brow darkened. “’E does the drawing, Keggs does, and I’d like to know ’ow it is ’e always manages to cop the fav’rit!”

Albert chuckled.

“But this time I done him proper.  ’E didn’t want me in the thing at all.  Said I was too young.  Tried to do the drawin’ without me.  ’Clip that boy one side of the ‘ead!’ ’e says, ’and turn ‘im out!’ ’e says.  I says, ‘Yus, you will!’ I says.  ‘And wot price me goin’ to ‘is lordship and blowing the gaff?’ I says.  ’E says, ’Oh, orl right!’ ’e says.  ‘Ave it yer own way!’ ’e says.

“‘Where’s yer five shillings?’ ’e says. ‘’Ere yer are!’ I says.  ‘Oh, very well,’ ’e says.  ’But you’ll ‘ave to draw last,’ ’e says, ‘bein’ the youngest.’  Well, they started drawing the names, and of course Keggs ’as to draw Mr. Byng.”

“Oh, he drew Mr. Byng, did he?”