"
"'The carpet to be laid down on the stairs, as before.' Sorry to
disappoint you, sir. But that can't be done either."
"Why not?"
"Because the man who laid that carpet down is dead, Mr. Jennings--and
the like of him for reconciling together a carpet and a corner, is not
to be found in all England, look where you may."
"Very well. We must try the next best man in England."
Betteredge took another note; and I went on issuing my directions.
"Miss Verinder's sitting-room to be restored exactly to what it was
last year. Also, the corridor leading from the sitting-room to the first
landing. Also, the second corridor, leading from the second landing to
the best bedrooms. Also, the bedroom occupied last June by Mr. Franklin
Blake."
Betteredge's blunt pencil followed me conscientiously, word by word.
"Go on, sir," he said, with sardonic gravity. "There's a deal of writing
left in the point of this pencil yet."
I told him that I had no more directions to give. "Sir," said
Betteredge, "in that case, I have a point or two to put on my own
behalf." He opened the pocket-book at a new page, and gave the
inexhaustible pencil another preliminary lick.
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