5: Bar Talk
THERE had been five scones in the dish, all hot and buttery, when Tyrrell had called Gees down from his room for tea. One remained, now. Gees, who had had three, looked at the lonely survivor, wistfully.
"Take it," Tyrrell urged. "I'm turning on to cake."
"Then it would be a pity to waste this," Gees said, seizing the scone. "It must be this air that's getting me down."
"Getting the scones down, too," Tyrrell gibed.
"I want to borrow a suit of clothes," Gees announced abruptly.
"Well"—Tyrrell surveyed his figure—"apart from hands and feet, you and I are much of a size, I should say. Anything of mine—"
"No," Gees interrupted. "Good of you and all that, but have you a man working for you of about my size? I want a working suit."
"There's Weelum," Tyrrell said, after a mom
