‘Basil, go and get her some brandy. She’s had a shock,’ said Brenda Dance, at once.
Grimston, looking thunderous, went out for the restorative, and when he came back he announced that the orchestra had appeared and were thawing out in the servants’ hall.
‘They can’t waste time there,’ said Sir Bohun. ‘Grimston, you and Bell collect the voting papers. Now, Linda, how do you feel?’
‘Better,’ the pallid girl replied. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m terrified of dogs, and that was such a big one, and it looked – it looked so very horrible!’
Sir Bohun nodded, went out of the room and brought in the orchestra, who were certainly cold and damp and seemed delighted to get into the brilliantly-lighted, centrally-heated ballroom.
‘They’ve been delayed by the fog, as I expected, and I suppose they brought that great brute with them,’ he said, calmly appropriating the theory advanced by Brenda Dance.
The orchestra leader, however, disclaimed all knowledge of the dog. He had not even seen a dog, he declared. He and his men tuned up and began to play.
LoL. We have a hound!