'Well, but you can tell me where to find a sheet of paper, surely?'
rejoined he.
'Oh, indeed, sir, I can't,' replied she; 'I know nothin' about nothin' of
the sort.' Servants never do.
'What sort?' asked Mr. Sponge, wondering at her vehemence.
'Well, sir, about what you said,' sobbed the girl, applying the corner of
her dirty apron to her eyes.
'Hang it, the girl's mad,' rejoined our friend, brushing by, and making for
the passage beyond. This brought him past the still-room, the steward's
room, the housekeeper's room, and the butler's pantry. All were in most
glorious confusion; in the latter, Captain Cutitfat's lacquer-toed,
lavender-coloured dress-boots were reposing in the silver soup tureen, and
Captain Bouncey's varnished pumps were stuffed into a wine-cooler. The last
detachment of empty bottles stood or lay about the floor, commingling with
boot-jacks, knife-trays, bath-bricks, coat-brushes, candle-end boxes,
plates, lanterns, lamp-glasses, oil bottles, corkscrews,
wine-strainers--the usual miscellaneous appendages of a butler's pantry.
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