THE UNDYING FIRE
brought him in. He was wearing a Norfolk jacket suit of a coarse yet hairy consistency and of a pale sage green colour. He shone greatly in the eyes of Mrs. Huss. "I can't help thinking of you, dear lady," he said, bowing over her hand, and all his hair was for a moment sad and sympathetic like a sick Skye terrier's. Mr. Dad and Mr. Farr entered a moment later; Mr. Farr in grey flannel trousers and a brown jacket, and Mr. Dad in a natty dark grey suit with a luminous purple waistcoat.
"My dear," said Mr. Huss to his wife, "I must be alone with these gentlemen," and when she seemed disposed to linger near the understanding warmth of Sir Eliphaz, he added, "Figures, my dear—Finance," and drove her forth. . . .
"'Pon my honour," said Mr. Dad, coming close up to the arm-chair, wrinkling his muzzle and putting through his compliments in good business-like style before coming to the harder stuff in hand; "I don't like to see you like this, Mr. Huss."
"Nor does Sir Eliphaz, I hope—nor Farr. Please find yourselves chairs."
And while Mr. Farr made protesting noises and Sir Eliphaz waved his hair about before beginning the little speech he had prepared, Mr. Huss took the discourse out of their mouths and began:
"I know perfectly well the task you have set yourselves. You have come to make an end of me as headmaster of Woldingstanton. And Mr. Farr has very obligingly. . . ."
He held up his white and wasted hand as Mr. Farr began to disavow.
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