''At-a-boy!' said the odd-job man, reverently.
Lady Wetherby turned on him with some violence. His detached
attitude was the most irritating of the many irritating aspects of
the situation. She paid this man a weekly wage to do odd jobs. The
capture of Eustace was essentially an odd job. Yet, instead of
doing it, he hung about with the air of one who has paid his
half-dollar and bought his bag of peanuts and has now nothing to
do but look on and enjoy himself.
'Why don't you catch him?' she cried.
The odd-job man came out of his trance. A sudden realization came
upon him that life was real and life was earnest, and that if he
did not wish to jeopardize a good situation he must bestir
himself. Everybody was looking at him expectantly. It seemed to be
definitely up to him. It was imperative that, whatever he did, he
should do it quickly. There was an apron hanging over the back of
a chair. More with the idea of doing something than because he
thought he would achieve anything definite thereby, he picked up
the apron and flung it at Eustace. Luck was with him. The apron
enveloped Eustace just as he was winding up for another inshoot
and was off his balance. He tripped and fell, clutched at the
apron to save himself, and came to the ground swathed in it,
giving the effect of an apron mysteriously endowed with life.
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