Tilly, whose powers of endurance were fast coming to an end, made no reply. Kindly Mr. Mainwaring bridged the gulf of silence. "It is extraordinary," he began chattily to the company at large, "how completely one is at the mercy of the British workman. Once you get him into your house he sticks. I suppose the title of arch-limpet must be awarded to the plumber; but I should think the paperhanger--" He was interrupted by the querulous but arresting voice of Grandma Banks. "What’s that?" she enquired with ominous distinctness, "about plumbers?" "I was awarding the palm for general iniquity, dear Mrs. Banks," explained Mr. Mainwaring smilingly, "to the plumbing fraternity. Plumbers--" Mrs. Welwyn made a hasty movement, but it was too late. Grandma’s bowed and shrivelled form suddenly swelled and stiffened. "Ho, was you?" she enquired with rising indignation. "Then let me tell you that my late ’usband, Mr. Josiah Banks, what was very ’ighly respected in ’Itchin--" Tilly dropped two teaspoons despairingly, and there was another and more timely bump overhead. "Percy dear," interposed Mrs. Welwyn hastily, "don’t you think you had better run up and see what those wretches are doing?" "Righto, Mother," said Percy, rising with alacrity. "My late ’usband--" resumed Mrs. Banks, _crescendo_. "It certainly is an extraordinary noise," remarked Mr. Welwyn loudly. "They appear to be on the staircase now." "Sliding down the banisters, no doubt," said Dicky. "Playful little fellows! Shall I come with you, Percy?" Percy Welwyn paused, a little embarrassed. "Don’t trouble," he said. "You see--" He paused again--fatally. "My late ’usband," proclaimed Grandma Banks on the top note of her register, "was a plumber ’imself." Next moment the double doors burst open, and Mr. Mehta Ram, frantic with terror, hurled himself into the room. CHAPTER XXII THE REAL TILLY Mr. Mehta Ram promptly fell at the feet of Mr. Welwyn, and attempted, in true Old Testament fashion, to embrace that embarrassed scholar and gentleman by the knees. "Keep him out!" he shrieked. "Great snakes, I implore you! Lock the door!" In the absence of the snakes this office was performed by Percy and Dicky. Directly afterwards there was a rush of feet down the staircase, and a fusilade of blows began to rain upon the panels. "Open the door!" commanded a voice, in a frenzied Paisley accent. "I’m wanting in! Tae break his neck," it added in explanation. Dicky and Percy promptly put their backs against the door. Mrs. Welwyn crossed hastily to her husband’s side. "It’s that Pumpherston," she announced in a low voice. "What are we to do?" Mr. Welwyn addressed the suppliant at his feet. "Come, Mr. Mehta Ram," he said, "don’t be frightened. He can’t get in. What is the trouble?" Mr. Mehta Ram lifted his face from Mr. Welwyn’s boots and addressed the company at large.