Gibberish looked at his Master in amazement. Seconds ago he’d gone the way of Lady Wainscotting, or so Gibberish believed. And now?
“But-but” he stuttered.
“Butbutbut…? Is that why they call him a Butler?” remarked Lavinia smiling innocently and chuckling to herself.
Lord Grope hammered his fist on the table.
“A bloody Scotch, Gibberish! Get it now!”
This angry outburst appeared to subdue Gibberish’s frantic thoughts and he quietly and dutifully (though still somewhat confusedly) went about the business of preparing his Lordship’s drink.
Lord Grope smirked.
He was back in his favourite place: the centre of attention.