"Bit of a sport, ain't she, guv'nor?" Cleek remarked to Borkins, with a
jerk of his head in the woman's direction. The butler whirled round and
fixed him with a stare of haughty indignation.
"Here, you keep your fingers off your betters!" he retorted angrily, for
Cleek had dug a friendly elbow into his ribs.
"Oh, orl right! No offence meant! Thought perhaps _you_ wuz the boss, by
the look of yer. But doubtless you ain't nuffink ter do wiv the factory
at all. Private gent, I take it."
"Then you take it wrong!" retorted Borkins, sharply. "And I _have_
something ter do with the factory, if you wants ter know. Like ter show
your good manners, I might be able to get you a job--an' one for the
little 'un as well, though I don't care for Londoners as a rule. There's
another of 'em up at the place where I lives. I'm 'ead butler to Sir
Nigel Merriton of Merriton Towers, if you're anxious to know who _I_ am."
His chest swelled visibly. "In private I dabbles a little in--other
things. And I've influence. You men can keep your mouths shut?"
"Dumb as a blinkin' dorg!" threw in Dollops, who was close by Cleek's
side, and both men nodded vigorously.
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