"It was the weather that really started it," he said.
"Started what?"
"The trouble. What sort of weather have you been having here?"
"I haven't noticed."
"Well, down at Windles it has been raining practically all the time,
and after about a couple of days it became fairly clear to me that
Bennett and Mortimer were getting a bit fed. I mean to say, having
spent all their lives in America, don't you know, they weren't used to
a country where it rained all the time, and pretty soon it began to get
on their nerves. They started quarrelling. Nothing bad at first, but
hotting up more and more, till at last they were hardly on speaking
terms. Every little thing that happened seemed to get the wind up them.
There was that business of Smith, for instance."
"Who's Smith?"
"Mortimer's bull-dog. Old Bennett is scared of him, and wants him kept
in the stables, but Mortimer insists on letting him roam about the
house. Well, they scrapped a goodish bit about that. And then there was
the orchestrion.
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