Love Among the Chickens - The Original Classic Edition. Wodehouse P

One was the middle-aged Irishman who had travelled down with us in the train. The other was his blue-eyed daughter.

       The third member of the party was a man, a stranger to me. By some miracle of adroitness he had captured Aunt Elizabeth, and was holding her in spite of her protests in a workmanlike manner behind the wings.

       18

       CHAPTER VII

       THE ENTENTE CORDIALE IS SEALED

       There are moments and moments. The present one belonged to the more painful variety.

       Even to my exhausted mind it was plain that there was a need here for explanations. An Irishman's croquet-lawn is his castle, and strangers cannot plunge in through hedges without inviting comment.

       Unfortunately, speech was beyond me. I could have emptied a water-butt, laid down and gone to sleep, or melted ice with a touch

       of the finger, but I could not speak. The conversation was opened by the other man, in whose restraining hand Aunt Elizabeth now lay, outwardly resigned but inwardly, as I, who knew her haughty spirit, could guess, boiling with baffled resentment. I could see her looking out of the corner of her eye, trying to estimate the chances of getting in one good hard peck with her aquiline beak.

       "Come right in," said the man pleasantly. "Don't knock."

       I stood there, gasping. I was only too well aware that I presented a quaint appearance. I had removed my hat before entering the hedge, and my hair was full of twigs and other foreign substances. My face was moist and grimy. My mouth hung open. My legs felt as if they had ceased to belong to me.

       "I must apol-- ..." I began, and ended the sentence with gulps.