CHAPTER ELEVEN
George did not delay. Always sound, Hamilton Beamish's advice appeared to him now even sounder than usual. He rang the bell for Ferris.
"Oh, Ferris," said George, "Mr. Beamish thinks you had better stay in the room with the wedding-presents and keep an eye on them."
"Very good, sir."
"In case somebody tries to steal them, you know."
"Just so, sir."
Relief, as it always does, had given George a craving for conversation. He wanted to buttonhole some fellow-creature and babble. He would have preferred this fellow-creature to have been anyone but Ferris, for he had not forgotten the early passages of their acquaintanceship and seemed still to sense in the butler's manner a lingering antipathy. But Ferris was there, so he babbled to him.
"Nice day, Ferris."
"Yes, sir."
"
