summaryrefslogtreecommitdiff
path: root/9151-h/9151-h.htm
blob: 16f7f11059e4f63f31781ae056ce6dc1e630a5a3 (plain) 
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
1001
1002
1003
1004
1005
1006
1007
1008
1009
1010
1011
1012
1013
1014
1015
1016
1017
1018
1019
1020
1021
1022
1023
1024
1025
1026
1027
1028
1029
1030
1031
1032
1033
1034
1035
1036
1037
1038
1039
1040
1041
1042
1043
1044
1045
1046
1047
1048
1049
1050
1051
1052
1053
1054
1055
1056
1057
1058
1059
1060
1061
1062
1063
1064
1065
1066
1067
1068
1069
1070
1071
1072
1073
1074
1075
1076
1077
1078
1079
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088
1089
1090
1091
1092
1093
1094
1095
1096
1097
1098
1099
1100
1101
1102
1103
1104
1105
1106
1107
1108
1109
1110
1111
1112
1113
1114
1115
1116
1117
1118
1119
1120
1121
1122
1123
1124
1125
1126
1127
1128
1129
1130
1131
1132
1133
1134
1135
1136
1137
1138
1139
1140
1141
1142
1143
1144
1145
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152
1153
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178
1179
1180
1181
1182
1183
1184
1185
1186
1187
1188
1189
1190
1191
1192
1193
1194
1195
1196
1197
1198
1199
1200
1201
1202
1203
1204
1205
1206
1207
1208
1209
1210
1211
1212
1213
1214
1215
1216
1217
1218
1219
1220
1221
1222
1223
1224
1225
1226
1227
1228
1229
1230
1231
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256
1257
1258
1259
1260
1261
1262
1263
1264
1265
1266
1267
1268
1269
1270
1271
1272
1273
1274
1275
1276
1277
1278
1279
1280
1281
1282
1283
1284
1285
1286
1287
1288
1289
1290
1291
1292
1293
1294
1295
1296
1297
1298
1299
1300
1301
1302
1303
1304
1305
1306
1307
1308
1309
1310
1311
1312
1313
1314
1315
1316
1317
1318
1319
1320
1321
1322
1323
1324
1325
1326
1327
1328
1329
1330
1331
1332
1333
1334
1335
1336
1337
1338
1339
1340
1341
1342
1343
1344
1345
1346
1347
1348
1349
1350
1351
1352
1353
1354
1355
1356
1357
1358
1359
1360
1361
1362
1363
1364
1365
1366
1367
1368
1369
1370
1371
1372
1373
1374
1375
1376
1377
1378
1379
1380
1381
1382
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391
1392
1393
1394
1395
1396
1397
1398
1399
1400
1401
1402
1403
1404
1405
1406
1407
1408
1409
1410
1411
1412
1413
1414
1415
1416
1417
1418
1419
1420
1421
1422
1423
1424
1425
1426
1427
1428
1429
1430
1431
1432
1433
1434
1435
1436
1437
1438
1439
1440
1441
1442
1443
1444
1445
1446
1447
1448
1449
1450
1451
1452
1453
1454
1455
1456
1457
1458
1459
1460
1461
1462
1463
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485
1486
1487
1488
1489
1490
1491
1492
1493
1494
1495
1496
1497
1498
1499
1500
1501
1502
1503
1504
1505
1506
1507
1508
1509
1510
1511
1512
1513
1514
1515
1516
1517
1518
1519
1520
1521
1522
1523
1524
1525
1526
1527
1528
1529
1530
1531
1532
1533
1534
1535
1536
1537
1538
1539
1540
1541
1542
1543
1544
1545
1546
1547
1548
1549
1550
1551
1552
1553
1554
1555
1556
1557
1558
1559
1560
1561
1562
1563
1564
1565
1566
1567
1568
1569
1570
1571
1572
1573
1574
1575
1576
1577
1578
1579
1580
1581
1582
1583
1584
1585
1586
1587
1588
1589
1590
1591
1592
1593
1594
1595
1596
1597
1598
1599
1600
1601
1602
1603
1604
1605
1606
1607
1608
1609
1610
1611
1612
1613
1614
1615
1616
1617
1618
1619
1620
1621
1622
1623
1624
1625
1626
1627
1628
1629
1630
1631
1632
1633
1634
1635
1636
1637
1638
1639
1640
1641
1642
1643
1644
1645
1646
1647
1648
1649
1650
1651
1652
1653
1654
1655
1656
1657
1658
1659
1660
1661
1662
1663
1664
1665
1666
1667
1668
1669
1670
1671
1672
1673
1674
1675
1676
1677
1678
1679
1680
1681
1682
1683
1684
1685
1686
1687
1688
1689
1690
1691
1692
1693
1694
1695
1696
1697
1698
1699
1700
1701
1702
1703
1704
1705
1706
1707
1708
1709
1710
1711
1712
1713
1714
1715
1716
1717
1718
1719
1720
1721
1722
1723
1724
1725
1726
1727
1728
1729
1730
1731
1732
1733
1734
1735
1736
1737
1738
1739
1740
1741
1742
1743
1744
1745
1746
1747
1748
1749
1750
1751
1752
1753
1754
1755
1756
1757
1758
1759
1760
1761
1762
1763
1764
1765
1766
1767
1768
1769
1770
1771
1772
1773
1774
1775
1776
1777
1778
1779
1780
1781
1782
1783
1784
1785
1786
1787
1788
1789
1790
1791
1792
1793
1794
1795
1796
1797
1798
1799
1800
1801
1802
1803
1804
1805
1806
1807
1808
1809
1810
1811
1812
1813
1814
1815
1816
1817
1818
1819
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
1857
1858
1859
1860
1861
1862
1863
1864
1865
1866
1867
1868
1869
1870
1871
1872
1873
1874
1875
1876
1877
1878
1879
1880
1881
1882
1883
1884
1885
1886
1887
1888
1889
1890
1891
1892
1893
1894
1895
1896
1897
1898
1899
1900
1901
1902
1903
1904
1905
1906
1907
1908
1909
1910
1911
1912
1913
1914
1915
1916
1917
1918
1919
1920
1921
1922
1923
1924
1925
1926
1927
1928
1929
1930
1931
1932
1933
1934
1935
1936
1937
1938
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
1960
1961
1962
1963
1964
1965
1966
1967
1968
1969
1970
1971
1972
1973
1974
1975
1976
1977
1978
1979
1980
1981
1982
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
2015
2016
2017
2018
2019
2020
2021
2022
2023
2024
2025
2026
2027
2028
2029
2030
2031
2032
2033
2034
2035
2036
2037
2038
2039
2040
2041
2042
2043
2044
2045
2046
2047
2048
2049
2050
2051
2052
2053
2054
2055
2056
2057
2058
2059
2060
2061
2062
2063
2064
2065
2066
2067
2068
2069
2070
2071
2072
2073
2074
2075
2076
2077
2078
2079
2080
2081
2082
2083
2084
2085
2086
2087
2088
2089
2090
2091
2092
2093
2094
2095
2096
2097
2098
2099
2100
2101
2102
2103
2104
2105
2106
2107
2108
2109
2110
2111
2112
2113
2114
2115
2116
2117
2118
2119
2120
2121
2122
2123
2124
2125
2126
2127
2128
2129
2130
2131
2132
2133
2134
2135
2136
2137
2138
2139
2140
2141
2142
2143
2144
2145
2146
2147
2148
2149
2150
2151
2152
2153
2154
2155
2156
2157
2158
2159
2160
2161
2162
2163
2164
2165
2166
2167
2168
2169
2170
2171
2172
2173
2174
2175
2176
2177
2178
2179
2180
2181
2182
2183
2184
2185
2186
2187
2188
2189
2190
2191
2192
2193
2194
2195
2196
2197
2198
2199
2200
2201
2202
2203
2204
2205
2206
2207
2208
2209
2210
2211
2212
2213
2214
2215
2216
2217
2218
2219
2220
2221
2222
2223
2224
2225
2226
2227
2228
2229
2230
2231
2232
2233
2234
2235
2236
2237
2238
2239
2240
2241
2242
2243
2244
2245
2246
2247
2248
2249
2250
2251
2252
2253
2254
2255
2256
2257
2258
2259
2260
2261
2262
2263
2264
2265
2266
2267
2268
2269
2270
2271
2272
2273
2274
2275
2276
2277
2278
2279
2280
2281
2282
2283
2284
2285
2286
2287
2288
2289
2290
2291
2292
2293
2294
2295
2296
2297
2298
2299
2300
2301
2302
2303
2304
2305
2306
2307
2308
2309
2310
2311
2312
2313
2314
2315
2316
2317
2318
2319
2320
2321
2322
2323
2324
2325
2326
2327
2328
2329
2330
2331
2332
2333
2334
2335
2336
2337
2338
2339
2340
2341
2342
2343
2344
2345
2346
2347
2348
2349
2350
2351
2352
2353
2354
2355
2356
2357
2358
2359
2360
2361
2362
2363
2364
2365
2366
2367
2368
2369
2370
2371
2372
2373
2374
2375
2376
2377
2378
2379
2380
2381
2382
2383
2384
2385
2386
2387
2388
2389
2390
2391
2392
2393
2394
2395
2396
2397
2398
2399
2400
2401
2402
2403
2404
2405
2406
2407
2408
2409
2410
2411
2412
2413
2414
2415
2416
2417
2418
2419
2420
2421
2422
2423
2424
2425
2426
2427
2428
2429
2430
2431
2432
2433
2434
2435
2436
2437
2438
2439
2440
2441
2442
2443
2444
2445
2446
2447
2448
2449
2450
2451
2452
2453
2454
2455
2456
2457
2458
2459
2460
2461
2462
2463
2464
2465
2466
2467
2468
2469
2470
2471
2472
2473
2474
2475
2476
2477
2478
2479
2480
2481
2482
2483
2484
2485
2486
2487
2488
2489
2490
2491
2492
2493
2494
2495
2496
2497
2498
2499
2500
2501
2502
2503
2504
2505
2506
2507
2508
2509
2510
2511
2512
2513
2514
2515
2516
2517
2518
2519
2520
2521
2522
2523
2524
2525
2526
2527
2528
2529
2530
2531
2532
2533
2534
2535
2536
2537
2538
2539
2540
2541
2542
2543
2544
2545
2546
2547
2548
2549
2550
2551
2552
2553
2554
2555
2556
2557
2558
2559
2560
2561
2562
2563
2564
2565
2566
2567
2568
2569
2570
2571
2572
2573
2574
2575
2576
2577
2578
2579
2580
2581
2582
2583
2584
2585
2586
2587
2588
2589
2590
2591
2592
2593
2594
2595
2596
2597
2598
2599
2600
2601
2602
2603
2604
2605
2606
2607
2608
2609
2610
2611
2612
2613
2614
2615
2616
2617
2618
2619
2620
2621
2622
2623
2624
2625
2626
2627
2628
2629
2630
2631
2632
2633
2634
2635
2636
2637
2638
2639
2640
2641
2642
2643
2644
2645
2646
2647
2648
2649
2650
2651
2652
2653
2654
2655
2656
2657
2658
2659
2660
2661
2662
2663
2664
2665
2666
2667
2668
2669
2670
2671
2672
2673
2674
2675
2676
2677
2678
2679
2680
2681
2682
2683
2684
2685
2686
2687
2688
2689
2690
2691
2692
2693
2694
2695
2696
2697
2698
2699
2700
2701
2702
2703
2704
2705
2706
2707
2708
2709
2710
2711
2712
2713
2714
2715
2716
2717
2718
2719
2720
2721
2722
2723
2724
2725
2726
2727
2728
2729
2730
2731
2732
2733
2734
2735
2736
2737
2738
2739
2740
2741
2742
2743
2744
2745
2746
2747
2748
2749
2750
2751
2752
2753
2754
2755
2756
2757
2758
2759
2760
2761
2762
2763
2764
2765
2766
2767
2768
2769
2770
2771
2772
2773
2774
2775
2776
2777
2778
2779
2780
2781
2782
2783
2784
2785
2786
2787
2788
2789
2790
2791
2792
2793
2794
2795
2796
2797
2798
2799
2800
2801
2802
2803
2804
2805
2806
2807
2808
2809
2810
2811
2812
2813
2814
2815
2816
2817
2818
2819
2820
2821
2822
2823
2824
2825
2826
2827
2828
2829
2830
2831
2832
2833
2834
2835
2836
2837
2838
2839
2840
2841
2842
2843
2844
2845
2846
2847
2848
2849
2850
2851
2852
2853
2854
2855
2856
2857
2858
2859
2860
2861
2862
2863
2864
2865
2866
2867
2868
2869
2870
2871
2872
2873
2874
2875
2876
2877
2878
2879
2880
2881
2882
2883
2884
2885
2886
2887
2888
2889
2890
2891
2892
2893
2894
2895
2896
2897
2898
2899
2900
2901
2902
2903
2904
2905
2906
2907
2908
2909
2910
2911
2912
2913
2914
2915
2916
2917
2918
2919
2920
2921
2922
2923
2924
2925
2926
2927
2928
2929
2930
2931
2932
2933
2934
2935
2936
2937
2938
2939
2940
2941
2942
2943
2944
2945
2946
2947
2948
2949
2950
2951
2952
2953
2954
2955
2956
2957
2958
2959
2960
2961
2962
2963
2964
2965
2966
2967
2968
2969
2970
2971
2972
2973
2974
2975
2976
2977
2978
2979
2980
2981
2982
2983
2984
2985
2986
2987
2988
2989
2990
2991
2992
2993
2994
2995
2996
2997
2998
2999
3000
3001
3002
3003
3004
3005
3006
3007
3008
3009
3010
3011
3012
3013
3014
3015
3016
3017
3018
3019
3020
3021
3022
3023
3024
3025
3026
3027
3028
3029
3030
3031
3032
3033
3034
3035
3036
3037
3038
3039
3040
3041
3042
3043
3044
3045
3046
3047
3048
3049
3050
3051
3052
3053
3054
3055
3056
3057
3058
3059
3060
3061
3062
3063
3064
3065
3066
3067
3068
3069
3070
3071
3072
3073
3074
3075
3076
3077
3078
3079
3080
3081
3082
3083
3084
3085
3086
3087
3088
3089
3090
3091
3092
3093
3094
3095
3096
3097
3098
3099
3100
3101
3102
3103
3104
3105
3106
3107
3108
3109
3110
3111
3112
3113
3114
3115
3116
3117
3118
3119
3120
3121
3122
3123
3124
3125
3126
3127
3128
3129
3130
3131
3132
3133
3134
3135
3136
3137
3138
3139
3140
3141
3142
3143
3144
3145
3146
3147
3148
3149
3150
3151
3152
3153
3154
3155
3156
3157
3158
3159
3160
3161
3162
3163
3164
3165
3166
3167
3168
3169
3170
3171
3172
3173
3174
3175
3176
3177
3178
3179
3180
3181
3182
3183
3184
3185
3186
3187
3188
3189
3190
3191
3192
3193
3194
3195
3196
3197
3198
3199
3200
3201
3202
3203
3204
3205
3206
3207
3208
3209
3210
3211
3212
3213
3214
3215
3216
3217
3218
3219
3220
3221
3222
3223
3224
3225
3226
3227
3228
3229
3230
3231
3232
3233
3234
3235
3236
3237
3238
3239
3240
3241
3242
3243
3244
3245
3246
3247
3248
3249
3250
3251
3252
3253
3254
3255
3256
3257
3258
3259
3260
3261
3262
3263
3264
3265
3266
3267
3268
3269
3270
3271
3272
3273
3274
3275
3276
3277
3278
3279
3280
3281
3282
3283
3284
3285
3286
3287
3288
3289
3290
3291
3292
3293
3294
3295
3296
3297
3298
3299
3300
3301
3302
3303
3304
3305
3306
3307
3308
3309
3310
3311
3312
3313
3314
3315
3316
3317
3318
3319
3320
3321
3322
3323
3324
3325
3326
3327
3328
3329
3330
3331
3332
3333
3334
3335
3336
3337
3338
3339
3340
3341
3342
3343
3344
3345
3346
3347
3348
3349
3350
3351
3352
3353
3354
3355
3356
3357
3358
3359
3360
3361
3362
3363
3364
3365
3366
3367
3368
3369
3370
3371
3372
3373
3374
3375
3376
3377
3378
3379
3380
3381
3382
3383
3384
3385
3386
3387
3388
3389
3390
3391
3392
3393
3394
3395
3396
3397
3398
3399
3400
3401
3402
3403
3404
3405
3406
3407
3408
3409
3410
3411
3412
3413
3414
3415
3416
3417
3418
3419
3420
3421
3422
3423
3424
3425
3426
3427
3428
3429
3430
3431
3432
3433
3434
3435
3436
3437
3438
3439
3440
3441
3442
3443
3444
3445
3446
3447
3448
3449
3450
3451
3452
3453
3454
3455
3456
3457
3458
3459
3460
3461
3462
3463
3464
3465
3466
3467
3468
3469
3470
3471
3472
3473
3474
3475
3476
3477
3478
3479
3480
3481
3482
3483
3484
3485
3486
3487
3488
3489
3490
3491
3492
3493
3494
3495
3496
3497
3498
3499
3500
3501
3502
3503
3504
3505
3506
3507
3508
3509
3510
3511
3512
3513
3514
3515
3516
3517
3518
3519
3520
3521
3522
3523
3524
3525
3526
3527
3528
3529
3530
3531
3532
3533
3534
3535
3536
3537
3538
3539
3540
3541
3542
3543
3544
3545
3546
3547
3548
3549
3550
3551
3552
3553
3554
3555
3556
3557
3558
3559
3560
3561
3562
3563
3564
3565
3566
3567
3568
3569
3570
3571
3572
3573
3574
3575
3576
3577
3578
3579
3580
3581
3582
3583
3584
3585
3586
3587
3588
3589
3590
3591
3592
3593
3594
3595
3596
3597
3598
3599
3600
3601
3602
3603
3604
3605
3606
3607
3608
3609
3610
3611
3612
3613
3614
3615
3616
3617
3618
3619
3620
3621
3622
3623
3624
3625
3626
3627
3628
3629
3630
3631
3632
3633
3634
3635
3636
3637
3638
3639
3640
3641
3642
3643
3644
3645
3646
3647
3648
3649
3650
3651
3652
3653
3654
3655
3656
3657
3658
3659
3660
3661
3662
3663
3664
3665
3666
3667
3668
3669
3670
3671
3672
3673
3674
3675
3676
3677
3678
3679
3680
3681
3682
3683
3684
3685
3686
3687
3688
3689
3690
3691
3692
3693
3694
3695
3696
3697
3698
3699
3700
3701
3702
3703
3704
3705
3706
3707
3708
3709
3710
3711
3712
3713
3714
3715
3716
3717
3718
3719
3720
3721
3722
3723
3724
3725
3726
3727
3728
3729
3730
3731
3732
3733
3734
3735
3736
3737
3738
3739
3740
3741
3742
3743
3744
3745
3746
3747
3748
3749
3750
3751
3752
3753
3754
3755
3756
3757
3758
3759
3760
3761
3762
3763
3764
3765
3766
3767
3768
3769
3770
3771
3772
3773
3774
3775
3776
3777
3778
3779
3780
3781
3782
3783
3784
3785
3786
3787
3788
3789
3790
3791
3792
3793
3794
3795
3796
3797
3798
3799
3800
3801
3802
3803
3804
3805
3806
3807
3808
3809
3810
3811
3812
3813
3814
3815
3816
3817
3818
3819
3820
3821
3822
3823
3824
3825
3826
3827
3828
3829
3830
3831
3832
3833
3834
3835
3836
3837
3838
3839
3840
3841
3842
3843
3844
3845
3846
3847
3848
3849
3850
3851
3852
3853
3854
3855
3856
3857
3858
3859
3860
3861
3862
3863
3864
3865
3866
3867
3868
3869
3870
3871
3872
3873
3874
3875
3876
3877
3878
3879
3880
3881
3882
3883
3884
3885
3886
3887
3888
3889
3890
3891
3892
3893
3894
3895
3896
3897
3898
3899
3900
3901
3902
3903
3904
3905
3906
3907
3908
3909
3910
3911
3912
3913
3914
3915
3916
3917
3918
3919
3920
3921
3922
3923
3924
3925
3926
3927
3928
3929
3930
3931
3932
3933
3934
3935
3936
3937
3938
3939
3940
3941
3942
3943
3944
3945
3946
3947
3948
3949
3950
3951
3952
3953
3954
3955
3956
3957
3958
3959
3960
3961
3962
3963
3964
3965
3966
3967
3968
3969
3970
3971
3972
3973
3974
3975
3976
3977
3978
3979
3980
3981
3982
3983
3984
3985
3986
3987
3988
3989
3990
3991
3992
3993
3994
3995
3996
3997
3998
3999
4000
4001
4002
4003
4004
4005
4006
4007
4008
4009
4010
4011
4012
4013
4014
4015
4016
4017
4018
4019
4020
4021
4022
4023
4024
4025
4026
4027
4028
4029
4030
4031
4032
4033
4034
4035
4036
4037
4038
4039
4040
4041
4042
4043
4044
4045
4046
4047
4048
4049
4050
4051
4052
4053
4054
4055
4056
4057
4058
4059
4060
4061
4062
4063
4064
4065
4066
4067
4068
4069
4070
4071
4072
4073
4074
4075
4076
4077
4078
4079
4080
4081
4082
4083
4084
4085
4086
4087
4088
4089
4090
4091
4092
4093
4094
4095
4096
4097
4098
4099
4100
4101
4102
4103
4104
4105
4106
4107
4108
4109
4110
4111
4112
4113
4114
4115
4116
4117
4118
4119
4120
4121
4122
4123
4124
4125
4126
4127
4128
4129
4130
4131
4132
4133
4134
4135
4136
4137
4138
4139
4140
4141
4142
4143
4144
4145
4146
4147
4148
4149
4150
4151
4152
4153
4154
4155
4156
4157
4158
4159
4160
4161
4162
4163
4164
4165
4166
4167
4168
4169
4170
4171
4172
4173
4174
4175
4176
4177
4178
4179
4180
4181
4182
4183
4184
4185
4186
4187
4188
4189
4190
4191
4192
4193
4194
4195
4196
4197
4198
4199
4200
4201
4202
4203
4204
4205
4206
4207
4208
4209
4210
4211
4212
4213
4214
4215
4216
4217
4218
4219
4220
4221
4222
4223
4224
4225
4226
4227
4228
4229
4230
4231
4232
4233
4234
4235
4236
4237
4238
4239
4240
4241
4242
4243
4244
4245
4246
4247
4248
4249
4250
4251
4252
4253
4254
4255
4256
4257
4258
4259
4260
4261
4262
4263
4264
4265
4266
4267
4268
4269
4270
4271
4272
4273
4274
4275
4276
4277
4278
4279
4280
4281
4282
4283
4284
4285
4286
4287
4288
4289
4290
4291
4292
4293
4294
4295
4296
4297
4298
4299
4300
4301
4302
4303
4304
4305
4306
4307
4308
4309
4310
4311
4312
4313
4314
4315
4316
4317
4318
4319
4320
4321
4322
4323
4324
4325
4326
4327
4328
4329
4330
4331
4332
4333
4334
4335
4336
4337
4338
4339
4340
4341
4342
4343
4344
4345
4346
4347
4348
4349
4350
4351
4352
4353
4354
4355
4356
4357
4358
4359
4360
4361
4362
4363
4364
4365
4366
4367
4368
4369
4370
4371
4372
4373
4374
4375
4376
4377
4378
4379
4380
4381
4382
4383
4384
4385
4386
4387
4388
4389
4390
4391
4392
4393
4394
4395
4396
4397
4398
4399
4400
4401
4402
4403
4404
4405
4406
4407
4408
4409
4410
4411
4412
4413
4414
4415
4416
4417
4418
4419
4420
4421
4422
4423
4424
4425
4426
4427
4428
4429
4430
4431
4432
4433
4434
4435
4436
4437
4438
4439
4440
4441
4442
4443
4444
4445
4446
4447
4448
4449
4450
4451
4452
4453
4454
4455
4456
4457
4458
4459
4460
4461
4462
4463
4464
4465
4466
4467
4468
4469
4470
4471
4472
4473
4474
4475
4476
4477
4478
4479
4480
4481
4482
4483
4484
4485
4486
4487
4488
4489
4490
4491
4492
4493
4494
4495
4496
4497
4498
4499
4500
4501
4502
4503
4504
4505
4506
4507
4508
4509
4510
4511
4512
4513
4514
4515
4516
4517
4518
4519
4520
4521
4522
4523
4524
4525
4526
4527
4528
4529
4530
4531
4532
4533
4534
4535
4536
4537
4538
4539
4540
4541
4542
4543
4544
4545
4546
4547
4548
4549
4550
4551
4552
4553
4554
4555
4556
4557
4558
4559
4560
4561
4562
4563
4564
4565
4566
4567
4568
4569
4570
4571
4572
4573
4574
4575
4576
4577
4578
4579
4580
4581
4582
4583
4584
4585
4586
4587
4588
4589
4590
4591
4592
4593
4594
4595
4596
4597
4598
4599
4600
4601
4602
4603
4604
4605
4606
4607
4608
4609
4610
4611
4612
4613
4614
4615
4616
4617
4618
4619
4620
4621
4622
4623
4624
4625
4626
4627
4628
4629
4630
4631
4632
4633
4634
4635
4636
4637
4638
4639
4640
4641
4642
4643
4644
4645
4646
4647
4648
4649
4650
4651
4652
4653
4654
4655
4656
4657
4658
4659
4660
4661
4662
4663
4664
4665
4666
4667
4668
4669
4670
4671
4672
4673
4674
4675
4676
4677
4678
4679
4680
4681
4682
4683
4684
4685
4686
4687
4688
4689
4690
4691
4692
4693
4694
4695
4696
4697
4698
4699
4700
4701
4702
4703
4704
4705
4706
4707
4708
4709
4710
4711
4712
4713
4714
4715
4716
4717
4718
4719
4720
4721
4722
4723
4724
4725
4726
4727
4728
4729
4730
4731
4732
4733
4734
4735
4736
4737
4738
4739
4740
4741
4742
4743
4744
4745
4746
4747
4748
4749
4750
4751
4752
4753
4754
4755
4756
4757
4758
4759
4760
4761
4762
4763
4764
4765
4766
4767
4768
4769
4770
4771
4772
4773
4774
4775
4776
4777
4778
4779
4780
4781
4782
4783
4784
4785
4786
4787
4788
4789
4790
4791
4792
4793
4794
4795
4796
4797
4798
4799
4800
4801
4802
4803
4804
4805
4806
4807
4808
4809
4810
4811
4812
4813
4814
4815
4816
4817
4818
4819
4820
4821
4822
4823
4824
4825
4826
4827
4828
4829
4830
4831
4832
4833
4834
4835
4836
4837
4838
4839
4840
4841
4842
4843
4844
4845
4846
4847
4848
4849
4850
4851
4852
4853
4854
4855
4856
4857
4858
4859
4860
4861
4862
4863
4864
4865
4866
4867
4868
4869
4870
4871
4872
4873
4874
4875
4876
4877
4878
4879
4880
4881
4882
4883
4884
4885
4886
4887
4888
4889
4890
4891
4892
4893
4894
4895
4896
4897
4898
4899
4900
4901
4902
4903
4904
4905
4906
4907
4908
4909
4910
4911
4912
4913
4914
4915
4916
4917
4918
4919
4920
4921
4922
4923
4924
4925
4926
4927
4928
4929
4930
4931
4932
4933
4934
4935
4936
4937
4938
4939
4940
4941
4942
4943
4944
4945
4946
4947
4948
4949
4950
4951
4952
4953
4954
4955
4956
4957
4958
4959
4960
4961
4962
4963
4964
4965
4966
4967
4968
4969
4970
4971
4972
4973
4974
4975
4976
4977
4978
4979
4980
4981
4982
4983
4984
4985
4986
4987
4988
4989
4990
4991
4992
4993
4994
4995
4996
4997
4998
4999
5000
5001
5002
5003
5004
5005
5006
5007
5008
5009
5010
5011
5012
5013
5014
5015
5016
5017
5018
5019
5020
5021
5022
5023
5024
5025
5026
5027
5028
5029
5030
5031
5032
5033
5034
5035
5036
5037
5038
5039
5040
5041
5042
5043
5044
5045
5046
5047
5048
5049
5050
5051
5052
5053
5054
5055
5056
5057
5058
5059
5060
5061
5062
5063
5064
5065
5066
5067
5068
5069
5070
5071
5072
5073
5074
5075
5076
5077
5078
5079
5080
5081
5082
5083
5084
5085
5086
5087
5088
5089
5090
5091
5092
5093
5094
5095
5096
5097
5098
5099
5100
5101
5102
5103
5104
5105
5106
5107
5108
5109
5110
5111
5112
5113
5114
5115
5116
5117
5118
5119
5120
5121
5122
5123
5124
5125
5126
5127
5128
5129
5130
5131
5132
5133
5134
5135
5136
5137
5138
5139
5140
5141
5142
5143
5144
5145
5146
5147
5148
5149
5150
5151
5152
5153
5154
5155
5156
5157
5158
5159
5160
5161
5162
5163
5164
5165
5166
5167
5168
5169
5170
5171
5172
5173
5174
5175
5176
5177
5178
5179
5180
5181
5182
5183
5184
5185
5186
5187
5188
5189
5190
5191
5192
5193
5194
5195
5196
5197
5198
5199
5200
5201
5202
5203
5204
5205
5206
5207
5208
5209
5210
5211
5212
5213
5214
5215
5216
5217
5218
5219
5220
5221
5222
5223
5224
5225
5226
5227
5228
5229
5230
5231
5232
5233
5234
5235
5236
5237
5238
5239
5240
5241
5242
5243
5244
5245
5246
5247
5248
5249
5250
5251
5252
5253
5254
5255
5256
5257
5258
5259
5260
5261
5262
5263
5264
5265
5266
5267
5268
5269
5270
5271
5272
5273
5274
5275
5276
5277
5278
5279
5280
5281
5282
5283
5284
5285
5286
5287
5288
5289
5290
5291
5292
5293
5294
5295
5296
5297
5298
5299
5300
5301
5302
5303
5304
5305
5306
5307
5308
5309
5310
5311
5312
5313
5314
5315
5316
5317
5318
5319
5320
5321
5322
5323
5324
5325
5326
5327
5328
5329
5330
5331
5332
5333
5334
5335
5336
5337
5338
5339
5340
5341
5342
5343
5344
5345
5346
5347
5348
5349
5350
5351
5352
5353
5354
5355
5356
5357
5358
5359
5360
5361
5362
5363
5364
5365
5366
5367
5368
5369
5370
5371
5372
5373
5374
5375
5376
5377
5378
5379
5380
5381
5382
5383
5384
5385
5386
5387
5388
5389
5390
5391
5392
5393
5394
5395
5396
5397
5398
5399
5400
5401
5402
5403
5404
5405
5406
5407
5408
5409
5410
5411
5412
5413
5414
5415
5416
5417
5418
5419
5420
5421
5422
5423
5424
5425
5426
5427
5428
5429
5430
5431
5432
5433
5434
5435
5436
5437
5438
5439
5440
5441
5442
5443
5444
5445
5446
5447
5448
5449
5450
5451
5452
5453
5454
5455
5456
5457
5458
5459
5460
5461
5462
5463
5464
5465
5466
5467
5468
5469
5470
5471
5472
5473
5474
5475
5476
5477
5478
5479
5480
5481
5482
5483
5484
5485
5486
5487
5488
5489
5490
5491
5492
5493
5494
5495
5496
5497
5498
5499
5500
5501
5502
5503
5504
5505
5506
5507
5508
5509
5510
5511
5512
5513
5514
5515
5516
5517
5518
5519
5520
5521
5522
5523
5524
5525
5526
5527
5528
5529
5530
5531
5532
5533
5534
5535
5536
5537
5538
5539
5540
5541
5542
5543
5544
5545
5546
5547
5548
5549
5550
5551
5552
5553
5554
5555
5556
5557
5558
5559
5560
5561
5562
5563
5564
5565
5566
5567
5568
5569
5570
5571
5572
5573
5574
5575
5576
5577
5578
5579
5580
5581
5582
5583
5584
5585
5586
5587
5588
5589
5590
5591
5592
5593
5594
5595
5596
5597
5598
5599
5600
5601
5602
5603
5604
5605
5606
5607
5608
5609
5610
5611
5612
5613
5614
5615
5616
5617
5618
5619
5620
5621
5622
5623
5624
5625
5626
5627
5628
5629
5630
5631
5632
5633
5634
5635
5636
5637
5638
5639
5640
5641
5642
5643
5644
5645
5646
5647
5648
5649
5650
5651
5652
5653
5654
5655
5656
5657
5658
5659
5660
5661
5662
5663
5664
5665
5666
5667
5668
5669
5670
5671
5672
5673
5674
5675
5676
5677
5678
5679
5680
5681
5682
5683
5684
5685
5686
5687
5688
5689
5690
5691
5692
5693
5694
5695
5696
5697
5698
5699
5700
5701
5702
5703
5704
5705
5706
5707
5708
5709
5710
5711
5712
5713
5714
5715
5716
5717
5718
5719
5720
5721
5722
5723
5724
5725
5726
5727
5728
5729
5730
5731
5732
5733
5734
5735
5736
5737
5738
5739
5740
5741
5742
5743
5744
5745
5746
5747
5748
5749
5750
5751
5752
5753
5754
5755
5756
5757
5758
5759
5760
5761
5762
5763
5764
5765
5766
5767
5768
5769
5770
5771
5772
5773
5774
5775
5776
5777
5778
5779
5780
5781
5782
5783
5784
5785
5786
5787
5788
5789
5790
5791
5792
5793
5794
5795
5796
5797
5798
5799
5800
5801
5802
5803
5804
5805
5806
5807
5808
5809
5810
5811
5812
5813
5814
5815
5816
5817
5818
5819
5820
5821
5822
5823
5824
5825
5826
5827
5828
5829
5830
5831
5832
5833
5834
5835
5836
5837
5838
5839
5840
5841
5842
5843
5844
5845
5846
5847
5848
5849
5850
5851
5852
5853
5854
5855
5856
5857
5858
5859
5860
5861
5862
5863
5864
5865
5866
5867
5868
5869
5870
5871
5872
5873
5874
5875
5876
5877
5878
5879
5880
5881
5882
5883
5884
5885
5886
5887
5888
5889
5890
5891
5892
5893
5894
5895
5896
5897
5898
5899
5900
5901
5902
5903
5904
5905
5906
5907
5908
5909
5910
5911
5912
5913
5914
5915
5916
5917
5918
5919
5920
5921
5922
5923
5924
5925
5926
5927
5928
5929
5930
5931
5932
5933
5934
5935
5936
5937
5938
5939
5940
5941
5942
5943
5944
5945
5946
5947
5948
5949
5950
5951
5952
5953
5954
5955
5956
5957
5958
5959
5960
5961
5962
5963
5964
5965
5966
5967
5968
5969
5970
5971
5972
5973
5974
5975
5976
5977
5978
5979
5980
5981
5982
5983
5984
5985
5986
5987
5988
5989
5990
5991
5992
5993
5994
5995
5996
5997
5998
5999
6000
6001
6002
6003
6004
6005
6006
6007
6008
6009
6010
6011
6012
6013
6014
6015
6016
6017
6018
6019
6020
6021
6022
6023
6024
6025
6026
6027
6028
6029
6030
6031
6032
6033
6034
6035
6036
6037
6038
6039
6040
6041
6042
6043
6044
6045
6046
6047
6048
6049
6050
6051
6052
6053
6054
6055
6056
6057
6058
6059
6060
6061
6062
6063
6064
6065
6066
6067
6068
6069
6070
6071
6072
6073
6074
6075
6076
6077
6078
6079
6080
6081
6082
6083
6084
6085
6086
6087
6088
6089
6090
6091
6092
6093
6094
6095
6096
6097
6098
6099
6100
6101
6102
6103
6104
6105
6106
6107
6108
6109
6110
6111
6112
6113
6114
6115
6116
6117
6118
6119
6120
6121
6122
6123
6124
6125
6126
6127
6128
6129
6130
6131
6132
6133
6134
6135
6136
6137
6138
6139
6140
6141
6142
6143
6144
6145
6146
6147
6148
6149
6150
6151
6152
6153
6154
6155
6156
6157
6158
6159
6160
6161
6162
6163
6164
6165
6166
6167
6168
6169
6170
6171
6172
6173
6174
6175
6176
6177
6178
6179
6180
6181
6182
6183
6184
6185
6186
6187
6188
6189
6190
6191
6192
6193
6194
6195
6196
6197
6198
6199
6200
6201
6202
6203
6204
6205
6206
6207
6208
6209
6210
6211
6212
6213
6214
6215
6216
6217
6218
6219
6220
6221
6222
6223
6224
6225
6226
6227
6228
6229
6230
6231
6232
6233
6234
6235
6236
6237
6238
6239
6240
6241
6242
6243
6244
6245
6246
6247
6248
6249
6250
6251
6252
6253
6254
6255
6256
6257
6258
6259
6260
6261
6262
6263
6264
6265
6266
6267
6268
6269
6270
6271
6272
6273
6274
6275
6276
6277
6278
6279
6280
6281
6282
6283
6284
6285
6286
6287
6288
6289
6290
6291
6292
6293
6294
6295
6296
6297
6298
6299
6300
6301
6302
6303
6304
6305
6306
6307
6308
6309
6310
6311
6312
6313
6314
6315
6316
6317
6318
6319
6320
6321
6322
6323
6324
6325
6326
6327
6328
6329
6330
6331
6332
6333
6334
6335
6336
6337
6338
6339
6340
6341
6342
6343
6344
6345
6346
6347
6348
6349
6350
6351
6352
6353
6354
6355
6356
6357
6358
6359
6360
6361
6362
6363
6364
6365
6366
6367
6368
6369
6370
6371
6372
6373
6374
6375
6376
6377
6378
6379
6380
6381
6382
6383
6384
6385
6386
6387
6388
6389
6390
6391
6392
6393
6394
6395
6396
6397
6398
6399
6400
6401
6402
6403
6404
6405
6406
6407
6408
6409
6410
6411
6412
6413
6414
6415
6416
6417
6418
6419
6420
6421
6422
6423
6424
6425
6426
6427
6428
6429
6430
6431
6432
6433
6434
6435
6436
6437
6438
6439
6440
6441
6442
6443
6444
6445
6446
6447
6448
6449
6450
6451
6452
6453
6454
6455
6456
6457
6458
6459
6460
6461
6462
6463
6464
6465
6466
6467
6468
6469
6470
6471
6472
6473
6474
6475
6476
6477
6478
6479
6480
6481
6482
6483
6484
6485
6486
6487
6488
6489
6490
6491
6492
6493
6494
6495
6496
6497
6498
6499
6500
6501
6502
6503
6504
6505
6506
6507
6508
6509
6510
6511
6512
6513
6514
6515
6516
6517
6518
6519
6520
6521
6522
6523
6524
6525
6526
6527
6528
6529
6530
6531
6532
6533
6534
6535
6536
6537
6538
6539
6540
6541
6542
6543
6544
6545
6546
6547
6548
6549
6550
6551
6552
6553
6554
6555
6556
6557
6558
6559
6560
6561
6562
6563
6564
6565
6566
6567
6568
6569
6570
6571
6572
6573
6574
6575
6576
6577
6578
6579
6580
6581
6582
6583
6584
6585
6586
6587
6588
6589
6590
6591
6592
6593
6594
6595
6596
6597
6598
6599
6600
6601
6602
6603
6604
6605
6606
6607
6608
6609
6610
6611
6612
6613
6614
6615
6616
6617
6618
6619
6620
6621
6622
6623
6624
6625
6626
6627
6628
6629
6630
6631
6632
6633
6634
6635
6636
6637
6638
6639
6640
6641
6642
6643
6644
6645
6646
6647
6648
6649
6650
6651
6652
6653
6654
6655
6656
6657
6658
6659
6660
6661
6662
6663
6664
6665
6666
6667
6668
6669
6670
6671
6672
6673
6674
6675
6676
6677
6678
6679
6680
6681
6682
6683
6684
6685
6686
6687
6688
6689
6690
6691
6692
6693
6694
6695
6696
6697
6698
6699
6700
6701
6702
6703
6704
6705
6706
6707
6708
6709
6710
6711
6712
6713
6714
6715
6716
6717
6718
6719
6720
6721
6722
6723
6724
6725
6726
6727
6728
6729
6730
6731
6732
6733
6734
6735
6736
6737
6738
6739
6740
6741
6742
6743
6744
6745
6746
6747
6748
6749
6750
6751
6752
6753
6754
6755
6756
6757
6758
6759
6760
6761
6762
6763
6764
6765
6766
6767
6768
6769
6770
6771
6772
6773
6774
6775
6776
6777
6778
6779
6780
6781
6782
6783
6784
6785
6786
6787
6788
6789
6790
6791
6792
6793
6794
6795
6796
6797
6798
6799
6800
6801
6802
6803
6804
6805
6806
6807
6808
6809
6810
6811
6812
6813
6814
6815
6816
6817
6818
6819
6820
6821
6822
6823
6824
6825
6826
6827
6828
6829
6830
6831
6832
6833
6834
6835
6836
6837
6838
6839
6840
6841
6842
6843
6844
6845
6846
6847
6848
6849
6850
6851
6852
6853
6854
6855
6856
6857
6858
6859
6860
6861
6862
6863
6864
6865
6866
6867
6868
6869
6870
6871
6872
6873
6874
6875
6876
6877
6878
6879
6880
6881
6882
6883
6884
6885
6886
6887
6888
6889
6890
6891
6892
6893
6894
6895
6896
6897
6898
6899
6900
6901
6902
6903
6904
6905
6906
6907
6908
6909
6910
6911
6912
6913
6914
6915
6916
6917
6918
6919
6920
6921
6922
6923
6924
6925
6926
6927
6928
6929
6930
6931
6932
6933
6934
6935
6936
6937
6938
6939
6940
6941
6942
6943
6944
6945
6946
6947
6948
6949
6950
6951
6952
6953
6954
6955
6956
6957
6958
6959
6960
6961
6962
6963
6964
6965
6966
6967
6968
6969
6970
6971
6972
6973
6974
6975
6976
6977
6978
6979
6980
6981
6982
6983
6984
6985
6986
6987
6988
6989
6990
6991
6992
6993
6994
6995
6996
6997
6998
6999
7000
7001
7002
7003
7004
7005
7006
7007
7008
7009
7010
7011
7012
7013
7014
7015
7016
7017
7018
7019
7020
7021
7022
7023
7024
7025
7026
7027
7028
7029
7030
7031
7032
7033
7034
7035
7036
7037
7038
7039
7040
7041
7042
7043
7044
7045
7046
7047
7048
7049
7050
7051
7052
7053
7054
7055
7056
7057
7058
7059
7060
7061
7062
7063
7064
7065
7066
7067
7068
7069
7070
7071
7072
7073
7074
7075
7076
7077
7078
7079
7080
7081
7082
7083
7084
7085
7086
7087
7088
7089
7090
7091
7092
7093
7094
7095
7096
7097
7098
7099
7100
7101
7102
7103
7104
7105
7106
7107
7108
7109
7110
7111
7112
7113
7114
7115
7116
7117
7118
7119
7120
7121
7122
7123
7124
7125
7126
7127
7128
7129
7130
7131
7132
7133
7134
7135
7136
7137
7138
7139
7140
7141
7142
7143
7144
7145
7146
7147
7148
7149
7150
7151
7152
7153
7154
7155
7156
7157
7158
7159
7160
7161
7162
7163
7164
7165
7166
7167
7168
7169
7170
7171
7172
7173
7174
7175
7176
7177
7178
7179
7180
7181
7182
7183
7184
7185
7186
7187
7188
7189
7190
7191
7192
7193
7194
7195
7196
7197
7198
7199
7200
7201
7202
7203
7204
7205
7206
7207
7208
7209
7210
7211
7212
7213
7214
7215
7216
7217
7218
7219
7220
7221
7222
7223
7224
7225
7226
7227
7228
7229
7230
7231
7232
7233
7234
7235
7236
7237
7238
7239
7240
7241
7242
7243
7244
7245
7246
7247
7248
7249
7250
7251
7252
7253
7254
7255
7256
7257
7258
7259
7260
7261
7262
7263
7264
7265
7266
7267
7268
7269
7270
7271
7272
7273
7274
7275
7276
7277
7278
7279
7280
7281
7282
7283
7284
7285
7286
7287
7288
7289
7290
7291
7292
7293
7294
7295
7296
7297
7298
7299
7300
7301
7302
7303
7304
7305
7306
7307
7308
7309
7310
7311
7312
7313
7314
7315
7316
7317
7318
7319
7320
7321
7322
7323
7324
7325
7326
7327
7328
7329
7330
7331
7332
7333
7334
7335
7336
7337
7338
7339
7340
7341
7342
7343
7344
7345
7346
7347
7348
7349
7350
7351
7352
7353
7354
7355
7356
7357
7358
7359
7360
7361
7362
7363
7364
7365
7366
7367
7368
7369
7370
7371
7372
7373
7374
7375
7376
7377
7378
7379
7380
7381
7382
7383
7384
7385
7386
7387
7388
7389
7390
7391
7392
7393
7394
7395
7396
7397
7398
7399
7400
7401
7402
7403
7404
7405
7406
7407
7408
7409
7410
7411
7412
7413
7414
7415
7416
7417
7418
7419
7420
7421
7422
7423
7424
7425
7426
7427
7428
7429
7430
7431
7432
7433
7434
7435
7436
7437
7438
7439
7440
7441
7442
7443
7444
7445
7446
7447
7448
7449
7450
7451
7452
7453
7454
7455
7456
7457
7458
7459
7460
7461
7462
7463
7464
7465
7466
7467
7468
7469
7470
7471
7472
7473
7474
7475
7476
7477
7478
7479
7480
7481
7482
7483
7484
7485
7486
7487
7488
7489
7490
7491
7492
7493
7494
7495
7496
7497
7498
7499
7500
7501
7502
7503
7504
7505
7506
7507
7508
7509
7510
7511
7512
7513
7514
7515
7516
7517
7518
7519
7520
7521
7522
7523
7524
7525
7526
7527
7528
7529
7530
7531
7532
7533
7534
7535
7536
7537
7538
7539
7540
7541
7542
7543
7544
7545
7546
7547
7548
7549
7550
7551
7552
7553
7554
7555
7556
7557
7558
7559
7560
7561
7562
7563
7564
7565
7566
7567
7568
7569
7570
7571
7572
7573
7574
7575
7576
7577
7578
7579
7580
7581
7582
7583
7584
7585
7586
7587
7588
7589
7590
7591
7592
7593
7594
7595
7596
7597
7598
7599
7600
7601
7602
7603
7604
7605
7606
7607
7608
7609
7610
7611
7612
7613
7614
7615
7616
7617
7618
7619
7620
7621
7622
7623
7624
7625
7626
7627
7628
7629
7630
7631
7632
7633
7634
7635
7636
7637
7638
7639
7640
7641
7642
7643
7644
7645
7646
7647
7648
7649
7650
7651
7652
7653
7654
7655
7656
7657
7658
7659
7660
7661
7662
7663
7664
7665
7666
7667
7668
7669
7670
7671
7672
7673
7674
7675
7676
7677
7678
7679
7680
7681
7682
7683
7684
7685
7686
7687
7688
7689
7690
7691
7692
7693
7694
7695
7696
7697
7698
7699
7700
7701
7702
7703
7704
7705
7706
7707
7708
7709
7710
7711
7712
7713
7714
7715
7716
7717
7718
7719
7720
7721
7722
7723
7724
7725
7726
7727
7728
7729
7730
7731
7732
7733
7734
7735
7736
7737
7738
7739
7740
7741
7742
7743
7744
7745
7746
7747
7748
7749
7750
7751
7752
7753
7754
7755
7756
7757
7758
7759
7760
7761
7762
7763
7764
7765
7766
7767
7768
7769
7770
7771
7772
7773
7774
7775
7776
7777
7778
7779
7780
7781
7782
7783
7784
7785
7786
7787
7788
7789
7790
7791
7792
7793
7794
7795
7796
7797
7798
7799
7800
7801
7802
7803
7804
7805
7806
7807
7808
7809
7810
7811
7812
7813
7814
7815
7816
7817
7818
7819
7820
7821
7822
7823
7824
7825
7826
7827
7828
7829
7830
7831
7832
7833
7834
7835
7836
7837
7838
7839
7840
7841
7842
7843
7844
7845
7846
7847
7848
7849
7850
7851
7852
7853
7854
7855
7856
7857
7858
7859
7860
7861
7862
7863
7864
7865
7866
7867
7868
7869
7870
7871
7872
7873
7874
7875
7876
7877
7878
7879
7880
7881
7882
7883
7884
7885
7886
7887
7888
7889
7890
7891
7892
7893
7894
7895
7896
7897
7898
7899
7900
7901
7902
7903
7904
7905
7906
7907
7908
7909
7910
7911
7912
7913
7914
7915
7916
7917
7918
7919
7920
7921
7922
7923
7924
7925
7926
7927
7928
7929
7930
7931
7932
7933
7934
7935
7936
7937
7938
7939
7940
7941
7942
7943
7944
7945
7946
7947
7948
7949
7950
7951
7952
7953
7954
7955
7956
7957
7958
7959
7960
7961
7962
7963
7964
7965
7966
7967
7968
7969
7970
7971
7972
7973
7974
7975
7976
7977
7978
7979
7980
7981
7982
7983
7984
7985
7986
7987
7988
7989
7990
7991
7992
7993
7994
7995
7996
7997
7998
7999
8000
8001
8002
8003
8004
8005
8006
8007
8008
8009
8010
8011
8012
8013
8014
8015
8016
8017
8018
8019
8020
8021
8022
8023
8024
8025
8026
8027
8028
8029
8030
8031
8032
8033
8034
8035
8036
8037
8038
8039
8040
8041
8042
8043
8044
8045
8046
8047
8048
8049
8050
8051
8052
8053
8054
8055
8056
8057
8058
8059
8060
8061
8062
8063
8064
8065
8066
8067
8068
8069
8070
8071
8072
8073
8074
8075
8076
8077
8078
8079
8080
8081
8082
8083
8084
8085
8086
8087
8088
8089
8090
8091
8092
8093
8094
8095
8096
8097
8098
8099
8100
8101
8102
8103
8104
8105
8106
8107
8108
8109
8110
8111
8112
8113
8114
8115
8116
8117
8118
8119
8120
8121
8122
8123
8124
8125
8126
8127
8128
8129
8130
8131
8132
8133
8134
8135
8136
8137
8138
8139
8140
8141
8142
8143
8144
8145
8146
8147
8148
8149
8150
8151
8152
8153
8154
8155
8156
8157
8158
8159
8160
8161
8162
8163
8164
8165
8166
8167
8168
8169
8170
8171
8172
8173
8174
8175
8176
8177
8178
8179
8180
8181
8182
8183
8184
8185
8186
8187
8188
8189
8190
8191
8192
8193
8194
8195
8196
8197
8198
8199
8200
8201
8202
8203
8204
8205
8206
8207
8208
8209
8210
8211
8212
8213
8214
8215
8216
8217
8218
8219
8220
8221
8222
8223
8224
8225
8226
8227
8228
8229
8230
8231
8232
8233
8234
8235
8236
8237
8238
8239
8240
8241
8242
8243
8244
8245
8246
8247
8248
8249
8250
8251
8252
8253
8254
8255
8256
8257
8258
8259
8260
8261
8262
8263
8264
8265
8266
8267
8268
8269
8270
8271
8272
8273
8274
8275
8276
8277
8278
8279
8280
8281
8282
8283
8284
8285
8286
8287
8288
8289
8290
8291
8292
8293
8294
8295
8296
8297
8298
8299
8300
8301
8302
8303
8304
8305
8306
8307
8308
8309
8310
8311
8312
8313
8314
8315
8316
8317
8318
8319
8320
8321
8322
8323
8324
8325
8326
8327
8328
8329
8330
8331
8332
8333
8334
8335
8336
8337
8338
8339
8340
8341
8342
8343
8344
8345
8346
8347
8348
8349
8350
8351
8352
8353
8354
8355
8356
8357
8358
8359
8360
8361
8362
8363
8364
8365
8366
8367
8368
8369
8370
8371
8372
8373
8374
8375
8376
8377
8378
8379
8380
8381
8382
8383
8384
8385
8386
8387
8388
8389
8390
8391
8392
8393
8394
8395
8396
8397
8398
8399
8400
8401
8402
8403
8404
8405
8406
8407
8408
8409
8410
8411
8412
8413
8414
8415
8416
8417
8418
8419
8420
8421
8422
8423
8424
8425
8426
8427
8428
8429
8430
8431
8432
8433
8434
8435
8436
8437
8438
8439
8440
8441
8442
8443
8444
8445
8446
8447
8448
8449
8450
8451
8452
8453
8454
8455
8456
8457
8458
8459
8460
8461
8462
8463
8464
8465
8466
8467
8468
8469
8470
8471
8472
8473
8474
8475
8476
8477
8478
8479
8480
8481
8482
8483
8484
8485
8486
8487
8488
8489
8490
8491
8492
8493
8494
8495
8496
8497
8498
8499
8500
8501
8502
8503
8504
8505
8506
8507
8508
8509
8510
8511
8512
8513
8514
8515
8516
8517
8518
8519
8520
8521
8522
8523
8524
8525
8526
8527
8528
8529
8530
8531
8532
8533
8534
8535
8536
8537
8538
8539
8540
8541
8542
8543
8544
8545
8546
8547
8548
8549
8550
8551
8552
8553
8554
8555
8556
8557
8558
8559
8560
8561
8562
8563
8564
8565
8566
8567
8568
8569
8570
8571
8572
8573
8574
8575
8576
8577
8578
8579
8580
8581
8582
8583
8584
8585
8586
8587
8588
8589
8590
8591
8592
8593
8594
8595
8596
8597
8598
8599
8600
8601
8602
8603
8604
8605
8606
8607
8608
8609
8610
8611
8612
8613
8614
8615
8616
8617
8618
8619
8620
8621
8622
8623
8624
8625
8626
8627
8628
8629
8630
8631
8632
8633
8634
8635
8636
8637
8638
8639
8640
8641
8642
8643
8644
8645
8646
8647
8648
8649
8650
8651
8652
8653
8654
8655
8656
8657
8658
8659
8660
8661
8662
8663
8664
8665
8666
8667
8668
8669
8670
8671
8672
8673
8674
8675
8676
8677
8678
8679
8680
8681
8682
8683
8684
8685
8686
8687
8688
8689
8690
8691
8692
8693
8694
8695
8696
8697
8698
8699
8700
8701
8702
8703
8704
8705
8706
8707
8708
8709
8710
8711
8712
8713
8714
8715
8716
8717
8718
8719
8720
8721
8722
8723
8724
8725
8726
8727
8728
8729
8730
8731
8732
8733
8734
8735
8736
8737
8738
8739
8740
8741
8742
8743
8744
8745
8746
8747
8748
8749
8750
8751
8752
8753
8754
8755
8756
8757
8758
8759
8760
8761
8762
8763
8764
8765
8766
8767
8768
8769
8770
8771
8772
8773
8774
8775
8776
8777
8778
8779
8780
8781
8782
8783
8784
8785
8786
8787
8788
8789
8790
8791
8792
8793
8794
8795
8796
8797
8798
8799
8800
8801
8802
8803
8804
8805
8806
8807
8808
8809
8810
8811
8812
8813
8814
8815
8816
8817
8818
8819
8820
8821
8822
8823
8824
8825
8826
8827
8828
8829
8830
8831
8832
8833
8834
8835
8836
8837
8838
8839
8840
8841
8842
8843
8844
8845
8846
8847
8848
8849
8850
8851
8852
8853
8854
8855
8856
8857
8858
8859
8860
8861
8862
8863
8864
8865
8866
8867
8868
8869
8870
8871
8872
8873
8874
8875
8876
8877
8878
8879
8880
8881
8882
8883
8884
8885
8886
8887
8888
8889
8890
8891
8892
8893
8894
8895
8896
8897
8898
8899
8900
8901
8902
8903
8904
8905
8906
8907
8908
8909
8910
8911
8912
8913
8914
8915
8916
8917
8918
8919
8920
8921
8922
8923
8924
8925
8926
8927
8928
8929
8930
8931
8932
8933
8934
8935
8936
8937
8938
8939
8940
8941
8942
8943
8944
8945
8946
8947
8948
8949
8950
8951
8952
8953
8954
8955
8956
8957
8958
8959
8960
8961
8962
8963
8964
8965
8966
8967
8968
8969
8970
8971
8972
8973
8974
8975
8976
8977
8978
8979
8980
8981
8982
8983
8984
8985
8986
8987
8988
8989
8990
8991
8992
8993
8994
8995
8996
8997
8998
8999
9000
9001
9002
9003
9004
9005
9006
9007
9008
9009
9010
9011
9012
9013
9014
9015
9016
9017
9018
9019
9020
9021
9022
9023
9024
9025
9026
9027
9028
9029
9030
9031
9032
9033
9034
9035
9036
9037
9038
9039
9040
9041
9042
9043
9044
9045
9046
9047
9048
9049
9050
9051
9052
9053
9054
9055
9056
9057
9058
9059
9060
9061
9062
9063
9064
9065
9066
9067
9068
9069
9070
9071
9072
9073
9074
9075
9076
9077
9078
9079
9080
9081
9082
9083
9084
9085
9086
9087
9088
9089
9090
9091
9092
9093
9094
9095
9096
9097
9098
9099
9100
9101
9102
9103
9104
9105
9106
9107
9108
9109
9110
9111
9112
9113
9114
9115
9116
9117
9118
9119
9120
9121
9122
9123
9124
9125
9126
9127
9128
9129
9130
9131
9132
9133
9134
9135
9136
9137
9138
9139
9140
9141
9142
9143
9144
9145
9146
9147
9148
9149
9150
9151
9152
9153
9154
9155
9156
9157
9158
9159
9160
9161
9162
9163
9164
9165
9166
9167
9168
9169
9170
9171
9172
9173
9174
9175
9176
9177
9178
9179
9180
9181
9182
9183
9184
9185
9186
9187
9188
9189
9190
9191
9192
9193
9194
9195
9196
9197
9198
9199
9200
9201
9202
9203
9204
9205
9206
9207
9208
9209
9210
9211
9212
9213
9214
9215
9216
9217
9218
9219
9220
9221
9222
9223
9224
9225
9226
9227
9228
9229
9230
9231
9232
9233
9234
9235
9236
9237
9238
9239
9240
9241
9242
9243
9244
9245
9246
9247
9248
9249
9250
9251
9252
9253
9254
9255
9256
9257
9258
9259
9260
9261
9262
9263
9264
9265
9266
9267
9268
9269
9270
9271
9272
9273
9274
9275
9276
9277
9278
9279
9280
9281
9282
9283
9284
9285
9286
9287
9288
9289
9290
9291
9292
9293
9294
9295
9296
9297
9298
9299
9300
9301
9302
9303
9304
9305
9306
9307
9308
9309
9310
9311
9312
9313
9314
9315
9316
9317
9318
9319
9320
9321
9322
9323
9324
9325
9326
9327
9328
9329
9330
9331
9332
9333
9334
9335
9336
9337
9338
9339
9340
9341
9342
9343
9344
9345
9346
9347
9348
9349
9350
9351
9352
9353
9354
9355
9356
9357
9358
9359
9360
9361
9362
9363
9364
9365
9366
9367
9368
9369
9370
9371
9372
9373
9374
9375
9376
9377
9378
9379
9380
9381
9382
9383
9384
9385
9386
9387
9388
9389
9390
9391
9392
9393
9394
9395
9396
9397
9398
9399
9400
9401
9402
9403
9404
9405
9406
9407
9408
9409
9410
9411
9412
9413
9414
9415
9416
9417
9418
9419
9420
9421
9422
9423
9424
9425
9426
9427
9428
9429
9430
9431
9432
9433
9434
9435
9436
9437
9438
9439
9440
9441
9442
9443
9444
9445
9446
9447
9448
9449
9450
9451
9452
9453
9454
9455
9456
9457
9458
9459
9460
9461
9462
9463
9464
9465
9466
9467
9468
9469
9470
9471
9472
9473
9474
9475
9476
9477
9478
9479
9480
9481
9482
9483
9484
9485
9486
9487
9488
9489
9490
9491
9492
9493
9494
9495
9496
9497
9498
9499
9500
9501
9502
9503
9504
9505
9506
9507
9508
9509
9510
9511
9512
9513
9514
9515
9516
9517
9518
9519
9520
9521
9522
9523
9524
9525
9526
9527
9528
9529
9530
9531
9532
9533
9534
9535
9536
9537
9538
9539
9540
9541
9542
9543
9544
9545
9546
9547
9548
9549
9550
9551
9552
9553
9554
9555
9556
9557
9558
9559
9560
9561
9562
9563
9564
9565
9566
9567
9568
9569
9570
9571
9572
9573
9574
9575
9576
9577
9578
9579
9580
9581
9582
9583
9584
9585
9586
9587
9588
9589
9590
9591
9592
9593
9594
9595
9596
9597
9598
9599
9600
9601
9602
9603
9604
9605
9606
9607
9608
9609
9610
9611
9612
9613
9614
9615
9616
9617
9618
9619
9620
9621
9622
9623
9624
9625
9626
9627
9628
9629
9630
9631
9632
9633
9634
9635
9636
9637
9638
9639
9640
9641
9642
9643
9644
9645
9646
9647
9648
9649
9650
9651
9652
9653
9654
9655
9656
9657
9658
9659
9660
9661
9662
9663
9664
9665
9666
9667
9668
9669
9670
9671
9672
9673
9674
9675
9676
9677
9678
9679
9680
9681
9682
9683
9684
9685
9686
9687
9688
9689
9690
9691
9692
9693
9694
9695
9696
9697
9698
9699
9700
9701
9702
9703
9704
9705
9706
9707
9708
9709
9710
9711
9712
9713
9714
9715
9716
9717
9718
9719
9720
9721
9722
9723
9724
9725
9726
9727
9728
9729
9730
9731
9732
9733
9734
9735
9736
9737
9738
9739
9740
9741
9742
9743
9744
9745
9746
9747
9748
9749
9750
9751
9752
9753
9754
9755
9756
9757
9758
9759
9760
9761
9762
9763
9764
9765
9766
9767
9768
9769
9770
9771
9772
9773
9774
9775
9776
9777
9778
9779
9780
9781
9782
9783
9784
9785
9786
9787
9788
9789
9790
9791
9792
9793
9794
9795
9796
9797
9798
9799
9800
9801
9802
9803
9804
9805
9806
9807
9808
9809
9810
9811
9812
9813
9814
9815
9816
9817
9818
9819
9820
9821
9822
9823
9824
9825
9826
9827
9828
9829
9830
9831
9832
9833
9834
9835
9836
9837
9838
9839
9840
9841
9842
9843
9844
9845
9846
9847
9848
9849
9850
9851
9852
9853
9854
9855
9856
9857
9858
9859
9860
9861
9862
9863
9864
9865
9866
9867
9868
9869
9870
9871
9872
9873
9874
9875
9876
9877
9878
9879
9880
9881
9882
9883
9884
9885
9886
9887
9888
9889
9890
9891
9892
9893
9894
9895
9896
9897
9898
9899
9900
9901
9902
9903
9904
9905
9906
9907
9908
9909
9910
9911
9912
9913
9914
9915
9916
9917
9918
9919
9920
9921
9922
9923
9924
9925
9926
9927
9928
9929
9930
9931
9932
9933
9934
9935
9936
9937
9938
9939
9940
9941
9942
9943
9944
9945
9946
9947
9948
9949
9950
9951
9952
9953
9954
9955
9956
9957
9958
9959
9960
9961
9962
9963
9964
9965
9966
9967
9968
9969
9970
9971
9972
9973
9974
9975
9976
9977
9978
9979
9980
9981
9982
9983
9984
9985
9986
9987
9988
9989
9990
9991
9992
9993
9994
9995
9996
9997
9998
9999
10000
10001
10002
10003
10004
10005
10006
10007
10008
10009
10010
10011
10012
10013
10014
10015
10016
10017
10018
10019
10020
10021
10022
10023
10024
10025
10026
10027
10028
10029
10030
10031
10032
10033
10034
10035
10036
10037
10038
10039
10040
10041
10042
10043
10044
10045
10046
10047
10048
10049
10050
10051
10052
10053
10054
10055
10056
10057
10058
10059
10060
10061
10062
10063
10064
10065
10066
10067
10068
10069
10070
10071
10072
10073
10074
10075
10076
10077
10078
10079
10080
10081
10082
10083
10084
10085
10086
10087
10088
10089
10090
10091
10092
10093
10094
10095
10096
10097
10098
10099
10100
10101
10102
10103
10104
10105
10106
10107
10108
10109
10110
10111
10112
10113
10114
10115
10116
10117
10118
10119
10120
10121
10122
10123
10124
10125
10126
10127
10128
10129
10130
10131
10132
10133
10134
10135
10136
10137
10138
10139
10140
10141
10142
10143
10144
10145
10146
10147
10148
10149
10150
10151
10152
10153
10154
10155
10156
10157
10158
10159
10160
10161
10162
10163
10164
10165
10166
10167
10168
10169
10170
10171
10172
10173
10174
10175
10176
10177
10178
10179
10180
10181
10182
10183
10184
10185
10186
10187
10188
10189
10190
10191
10192
10193
10194
10195
10196
10197
10198
10199
10200
10201
10202
10203
10204
10205
10206
10207
10208
10209
10210
10211
10212
10213
10214
10215
10216
10217
10218
10219
10220
10221
10222
10223
10224
10225
10226
10227
10228
10229
10230
10231
10232
10233
10234
10235
10236
10237
10238
10239
10240
10241
10242
10243
10244
10245
10246
10247
10248
10249
10250
10251
10252
10253
10254
10255
10256
10257
10258
10259
10260
10261
10262
10263
10264
10265
10266
10267
10268
10269
10270
10271
10272
10273
10274
10275
10276
10277
10278
10279
10280
10281
10282
10283
10284
10285
10286
10287
10288
10289
10290
10291
10292
10293
10294
10295
10296
10297
10298
10299
10300
10301
10302
10303
10304
10305
10306
10307
10308
10309
10310
10311
10312
10313
10314
10315
10316
10317
10318
10319
10320
10321
10322
10323
10324
10325
10326
10327
10328
10329
10330
10331
10332
10333
10334
10335
10336
10337
10338
10339
10340
10341
10342
10343
10344
10345
10346
10347
10348
10349
10350
10351
10352
10353
10354
10355
10356
10357
10358
10359
10360
10361
10362
10363
10364
10365
10366
10367
10368
10369
10370
10371
10372
10373
10374
10375
10376
10377
10378
10379
10380
10381
10382
10383
10384
10385
10386
10387
10388
10389
10390
10391
10392
10393
10394
10395
10396
10397
10398
10399
10400
10401
10402
10403
10404
10405
10406
10407
10408
10409
10410
10411
10412
10413
10414
10415
10416
10417
10418
10419
10420
10421
10422
10423
10424
10425
10426
10427
10428
10429
10430
10431
10432
10433
10434
10435
10436
10437
10438
10439
10440
10441
10442
10443
10444
10445
10446
10447
10448
10449
10450
10451
10452
10453
10454
10455
10456
10457
10458
10459
10460
10461
10462
10463
10464
10465
10466
10467
10468
10469
10470
10471
10472
10473
10474
10475
10476
10477
10478
10479
10480
10481
10482
10483
10484
10485
10486
10487
10488
10489
10490
10491
10492
10493
10494
10495
10496
10497
10498
10499
10500
10501
10502
10503
10504
10505
10506
10507
10508
10509
10510
10511
10512
10513
10514
10515
10516
10517
10518
10519
10520
10521
10522
10523
10524
10525
10526
10527
10528
10529
10530
10531
10532
10533
10534
10535
10536
10537
10538
10539
10540
10541
10542
10543
10544
10545
10546
10547
10548
10549
10550
10551
10552
10553
10554
10555
10556
10557
10558
10559
10560
10561
10562
10563
10564
10565
10566
10567
10568
10569
10570
10571
10572
10573
10574
10575
10576
10577
10578
10579
10580
10581
10582
10583
10584
10585
10586
10587
10588
10589
10590
10591
10592
10593
10594
10595
10596
10597
10598
10599
10600
10601
10602
10603
10604
10605
10606
10607
10608
10609
10610
10611
10612
10613
10614
10615
10616
10617
10618
10619
10620
10621
10622
10623
10624
10625
10626
10627
10628
10629
10630
10631
10632
10633
10634
10635
10636
10637
10638
10639
10640
10641
10642
10643
10644
10645
10646
10647
10648
10649
10650
10651
10652
10653
10654
10655
10656
10657
10658
10659
10660
10661
10662
10663
10664
10665
10666
10667
10668
10669
10670
10671
10672
10673
10674
10675
10676
10677
10678
10679
10680
10681
10682
10683
10684
10685
10686
10687
10688
10689
10690
10691
10692
10693
10694
10695
10696
10697
10698
10699
10700
10701
10702
10703
10704
10705
10706
10707
10708
10709
10710
10711
10712
10713
10714
10715
10716
10717
10718
10719
10720
10721
10722
10723
10724
10725
10726
10727
10728
10729
10730
10731
10732
10733
10734
10735
10736
10737
10738
10739
10740
10741
10742
10743
10744
10745
10746
10747
10748
10749
10750
10751
10752
10753
10754
10755
10756
10757
10758
10759
10760
10761
10762
10763
10764
10765
10766
10767
10768
10769
10770
10771
10772
10773
10774
10775
10776
10777
10778
10779
10780
10781
10782
10783
10784
10785
10786
10787
10788
10789
10790
10791
10792
10793
10794
10795
10796
10797
10798
10799
10800
10801
10802
10803
10804
10805
10806
10807
10808
10809
10810
10811
10812
10813
10814
10815
10816
10817
10818
10819
10820
10821
10822
10823
10824
10825
10826
10827
10828
10829
10830
10831
10832
10833
10834
10835
10836
10837
10838
10839
10840
10841
10842
10843
10844
10845
10846
10847
10848
10849
10850
10851
10852
10853
10854
10855
10856
10857
10858
10859
10860
10861
10862
10863
10864
10865
10866
10867
10868
10869
10870
10871
10872
10873
10874
10875
10876
10877
10878
10879
10880
10881
10882
10883
10884
10885
10886
10887
10888
10889
10890
10891
10892
10893
10894
10895
10896
10897
10898
10899
10900
10901
10902
10903
10904
10905
10906
10907
10908
10909
10910
10911
10912
10913
10914
10915
10916
10917
10918
10919
10920
10921
10922
10923
10924
10925
10926
10927
10928
10929
10930
10931
10932
10933
10934
10935
10936
10937
10938
10939
10940
10941
10942
10943
10944
10945
10946
10947
10948
10949
10950
10951
10952
10953
10954
10955
10956
10957
10958
10959
10960
10961
10962
10963
10964
10965
10966
10967
10968
10969
10970
10971
10972
10973
10974
10975
10976
10977
10978
10979
10980
10981
10982
10983
10984
10985
10986
10987
10988
10989
10990
10991
10992
10993
10994
10995
10996
10997
10998
10999
11000
11001
11002
11003
11004
11005
11006
11007
11008
11009
11010
11011
11012
11013
11014
11015
11016
11017
11018
11019
11020
11021
11022
11023
11024
11025
11026
11027
11028
11029
11030
11031
11032
11033
11034
11035
11036
11037
11038
11039
11040
11041
11042
11043
11044
11045
11046
11047
11048
11049
11050
11051
11052
11053
11054
11055
11056
11057
11058
11059
11060
11061
11062
11063
11064
11065
11066
11067
11068
11069
11070
11071
11072
11073
11074
11075
11076
11077
11078
11079
11080
11081
11082
11083
11084
11085
11086
11087
11088
11089
11090
11091
11092
11093
11094
11095
11096
11097
11098
11099
11100
11101
11102
11103
11104
11105
11106
11107
11108
11109
11110
11111
11112
11113
11114
11115
11116
11117
11118
11119
11120
11121
11122
11123
11124
11125
11126
11127
11128
11129
11130
11131
11132
11133
11134
11135
11136
11137
11138
11139
11140
11141
11142
11143
11144
11145
11146
11147
11148
11149
11150
11151
11152
11153
11154
11155
11156
11157
11158
11159
11160
11161
11162
11163
11164
11165
11166
11167
11168
11169
11170
11171
11172
11173
11174
11175
11176
11177
11178
11179
11180
11181
11182
11183
11184
11185
11186
11187
11188
11189
11190
11191
11192
11193
11194
11195
11196
11197
11198
11199
11200
11201
11202
11203
11204
11205
11206
11207
11208
11209
11210
11211
11212
11213
11214
11215
11216
11217
11218
11219
11220
11221
11222
11223
11224
11225
11226
11227
11228
11229
11230
11231
11232
11233
11234
11235
11236
11237
11238
11239
11240
11241
11242
11243
11244
11245
11246
11247
11248
11249
11250
11251
11252
11253
11254
11255
11256
11257
11258
11259
11260
11261
11262
11263
11264
11265
11266
11267
11268
11269
11270
11271
11272
11273
11274
11275
11276
11277
11278
11279
11280
11281
11282
11283
11284
11285
11286
11287
11288
11289
11290
11291
11292
11293
11294
11295
11296
11297
11298
11299
11300
11301
11302
11303
11304
11305
11306
11307
11308
11309
11310
11311
11312
11313
11314
11315
11316
11317
11318
11319
11320
11321
11322
11323
11324
11325
11326
11327
11328
11329
11330
11331
11332
11333
11334
11335
11336
11337
11338
11339
11340
11341
11342
11343
11344
11345
11346
11347
11348
11349
11350
11351
11352
11353
11354
11355
11356
11357
11358
11359
11360
11361
11362
11363
11364
11365
11366
11367
11368
11369
11370
11371
11372
11373
11374
11375
11376
11377
11378
11379
11380
11381
11382
11383
11384
11385
11386
11387
11388
11389
11390
11391
11392
11393
11394
11395
11396
11397
11398
11399
11400
11401
11402
11403
11404
11405
11406
11407
11408
11409
11410
11411
11412
11413
11414
11415
11416
11417
11418
11419
11420
11421
11422
11423
11424
11425
11426
11427
11428
11429
11430
11431
11432
11433
11434
11435
11436
11437
11438
11439
11440
11441
11442
11443
11444
11445
11446
11447
11448
11449
11450
11451
11452
11453
11454
11455
11456
11457
11458
11459
11460
11461
11462
11463
11464
11465
11466
11467
11468
11469
11470
11471
11472
11473
11474
11475
11476
11477
11478
11479
11480
11481
11482
11483
11484
11485
11486
11487
11488
11489
11490
11491
11492
11493
11494
11495
11496
11497
11498
11499
11500
11501
11502
11503
11504
11505
11506
11507
11508
11509
11510
11511
11512
11513
11514
11515
11516
11517
11518
11519
11520
11521
11522
11523
11524
11525
11526
11527
11528
11529
11530
11531
11532
11533
11534
11535
11536
11537
11538
11539
11540
11541
11542
11543
11544
11545
11546
11547
11548
11549
11550
11551
11552
11553
11554
11555
11556
11557
11558
11559
11560
11561
11562
11563
11564
11565
11566
11567
11568
11569
11570
11571
11572
11573
11574
11575
11576
11577
11578
11579
11580
11581
11582
11583
11584
11585
11586
11587
11588
11589
11590
11591
11592
11593
11594
11595
11596
11597
11598
11599
11600
11601
11602
11603
11604
11605
11606
11607
11608
11609
11610
11611
11612
11613
11614
11615
11616
11617
11618
11619
11620
11621
11622
11623
11624
11625
11626
11627
11628
11629
11630
11631
11632
11633
11634
11635
11636
11637
11638
11639
11640
11641
11642
11643
11644
11645
11646
11647
11648
11649
11650
11651
11652
11653
11654
11655
11656
11657
11658
11659
11660
11661
11662
11663
11664
11665
11666
11667
11668
11669
11670
11671
11672
11673
11674
11675
11676
11677
11678
11679
11680
11681
11682
11683
11684
11685
11686
11687
11688
11689
11690
11691
11692
11693
11694
11695
11696
11697
11698
11699
11700
11701
11702
11703
11704
11705
11706
11707
11708
11709
11710
11711
11712
11713
11714
11715
11716
11717
11718
11719
11720
11721
11722
11723
11724
11725
11726
11727
11728
11729
11730
11731
11732
11733
11734
11735
11736
11737
11738
11739
11740
11741
11742
11743
11744
11745
11746
11747
11748
11749
11750
11751
11752
11753
11754
11755
11756
11757
11758
11759
11760
11761
11762
11763
11764
11765
11766
11767
11768
11769
11770
11771
11772
11773
11774
11775
11776
11777
11778
11779
11780
11781
11782
11783
11784
11785
11786
11787
11788
11789
11790
11791
11792
11793
11794
11795
11796
11797
11798
11799
11800
11801
11802
11803
11804
11805
11806
11807
11808
11809
11810
11811
11812
11813
11814
11815
11816
11817
11818
11819
11820
11821
11822
11823
11824
11825
11826
11827
11828
11829
11830
11831
11832
11833
11834
11835
11836
11837
11838
11839
11840
11841
11842
11843
11844
11845
11846
11847
11848
11849
11850
11851
11852
11853
11854
11855
11856
11857
11858
11859
11860
11861
11862
11863
11864
11865
11866
11867
11868
11869
11870
11871
11872
11873
11874
11875
11876
11877
11878
11879
11880
11881
11882
11883
11884
11885
11886
11887
11888
11889
11890
11891
11892
11893
11894
11895
11896
11897
11898
11899
11900
11901
11902
11903
11904
11905
11906
11907
11908
11909
11910
11911
11912
11913
11914
11915
11916
11917
11918
11919
11920
11921
11922
11923
11924
11925
11926
11927
11928
11929
11930
11931
11932
11933
11934
11935
11936
11937
11938
11939
11940
11941
11942
11943
11944
11945
11946
11947
11948
11949
11950
11951
11952
11953
11954
11955
11956
11957
11958
11959
11960
11961
11962
11963
11964
11965
11966
11967
11968
11969
11970
11971
11972
11973
11974
11975
11976
11977
11978
11979
11980
11981
11982
11983
11984
11985
11986
11987
11988
11989
11990
11991
11992
11993
11994
11995
11996
11997
11998
11999
12000
12001
12002
12003
12004
12005
12006
12007
12008
12009
12010
12011
12012
12013
12014
12015
12016
12017
12018
12019
12020
12021
12022
12023
12024
12025
12026
12027
12028
12029
12030
12031
12032
12033
12034
12035
12036
12037
12038
12039
12040
12041
12042
12043
12044
12045
12046
12047
12048
12049
12050
12051
12052
12053
12054
12055
12056
12057
12058
12059
12060
12061
12062
12063
12064
12065
12066
12067
12068
12069
12070
12071
12072
12073
12074
12075
12076
12077
12078
12079
12080
12081
12082
12083
12084
12085
12086
12087
12088
12089
12090
12091
12092
12093
12094
12095
12096
12097
12098
12099
12100
12101
12102
12103
12104
12105
12106
12107
12108
12109
12110
12111
12112
12113
12114
12115
12116
12117
12118
12119
12120
12121
12122
12123
12124
12125
12126
12127
12128
12129
12130
12131
12132
12133
12134
12135
12136
12137
12138
12139
12140
12141
12142
12143
12144
12145
12146
12147
12148
12149
12150
12151
12152
12153
12154
12155
12156
12157
12158
12159
12160
12161
12162
12163
12164
12165
12166
12167
12168
12169
12170
12171
12172
12173
12174
12175
12176
12177
12178
12179
12180
12181
12182
12183
12184
12185
12186
12187
12188
12189
12190
12191
12192
12193
12194
12195
12196
12197
12198
12199
12200
12201
12202
12203
12204
12205
12206
12207
12208
12209
12210
12211
12212
12213
12214
12215
12216
12217
12218
12219
12220
12221
12222
12223
12224
12225
12226
12227
12228
12229
12230
12231
12232
12233
12234
12235
12236
12237
12238
12239
12240
12241
12242
12243
12244
12245
12246
12247
12248
12249
12250
12251
12252
12253
12254
12255
12256
12257
12258
12259
12260
12261
12262
12263
12264
12265
12266
12267
12268
12269
12270
12271
12272
12273
12274
12275
12276
12277
12278
12279
12280
12281
12282
12283
12284
12285
12286
12287
12288
12289
12290
12291
12292
12293
12294
12295
12296
12297
12298
12299
12300
12301
12302
12303
12304
12305
12306
12307
12308
12309
12310
12311
12312
12313
12314
12315
12316
12317
12318
12319
12320
12321
12322
12323
12324
12325
12326
12327
12328
12329
12330
12331
12332
12333
12334
12335
12336
12337
12338
12339
12340
12341
12342
12343
12344
12345
12346
12347
12348
12349
12350
12351
12352
12353
12354
12355
12356
12357
12358
12359
12360
12361
12362
12363
12364
12365
12366
12367
12368
12369
12370
12371
12372
12373
12374
12375
12376
12377
12378
12379
12380
12381
12382
12383
12384
12385
12386
12387
12388
12389
12390
12391
12392
12393
12394
12395
12396
12397
12398
12399
12400
12401
12402
12403
12404
12405
12406
12407
12408
12409
12410
12411
12412
12413
12414
12415
12416
12417
12418
12419
12420
12421
12422
12423
12424
12425
12426
12427
12428
12429
12430
12431
12432
12433
12434
12435
12436
12437
12438
12439
12440
12441
12442
12443
12444
12445
12446
12447
12448
12449
12450
12451
12452
12453
12454
12455
12456
12457
12458
12459
12460
12461
12462
12463
12464
12465
12466
12467
12468
12469
12470
12471
12472
12473
12474
12475
12476
12477
12478
12479
12480
12481
12482
12483
12484
12485
12486
12487
12488
12489
12490
12491
12492
12493
12494
12495
12496
12497
12498
12499
12500
12501
12502
12503
12504
12505
12506
12507
12508
12509
12510
12511
12512
12513
12514
12515
12516
12517
12518
12519
12520
12521
12522
12523
12524
12525
12526
12527
12528
12529
12530
12531
12532
12533
12534
12535
12536
12537
12538
12539
12540
12541
12542
12543
12544
12545
12546
12547
12548
12549
12550
12551
12552
12553
12554
12555
12556
12557
12558
12559
12560
12561
12562
12563
12564
12565
12566
12567
12568
12569
12570
12571
12572
12573
12574
12575
12576
12577
12578
12579
12580
12581
12582
12583
12584
12585
12586
12587
12588
12589
12590
12591
12592
12593
12594
12595
12596
12597
12598
12599
12600
12601
12602
12603
12604
12605
12606
12607
12608
12609
12610
12611
12612
12613
12614
12615
12616
12617
12618
12619
12620
12621
12622
12623
12624
12625
12626
12627
12628
12629
12630
12631
12632
12633
12634
12635
12636
12637
12638
12639
12640
12641
12642
12643
12644
12645
12646
12647
12648
12649
12650
12651
12652
12653
12654
12655
12656
12657
12658
12659
12660
12661
12662
12663
12664
12665
12666
12667
12668
12669
12670
12671
12672
12673
12674
12675
12676
12677
12678
12679
12680
12681
12682
12683
12684
12685
12686
12687
12688
12689
12690
12691
12692
12693
12694
12695
12696
12697
12698
12699
12700
12701
12702
12703
12704
12705
12706
12707
12708
12709
12710
12711
12712
12713
12714
12715
12716
12717
12718
12719
12720
12721
12722
12723
12724
12725
12726
12727
12728
12729
12730
12731
12732
12733
12734
12735
12736
12737
12738
12739
12740
12741
12742
12743
12744
12745
12746
12747
12748
12749
12750
12751
12752
12753
12754
12755
12756
12757
12758
12759
12760
12761
12762
12763
12764
12765
12766
12767
12768
12769
12770
12771
12772
12773
12774
12775
12776
12777
12778
12779
12780
12781
12782
12783
12784
12785
12786
12787
12788
12789
12790
12791
12792
12793
12794
12795
12796
12797
12798
12799
12800
12801
12802
12803
12804
12805
12806
12807
12808
12809
12810
12811
12812
12813
12814
12815
12816
12817
12818
12819
12820
12821
12822
12823
12824
12825
12826
12827
12828
12829
12830
12831
12832
12833
12834
12835
12836
12837
12838
12839
12840
12841
12842
12843
12844
12845
12846
12847
12848
12849
12850
12851
12852
12853
12854
12855
12856
12857
12858
12859
12860
12861
12862
12863
12864
12865
12866
12867
12868
12869
12870
12871
12872
12873
12874
12875
12876
12877
12878
12879
12880
12881
12882
12883
12884
12885
12886
12887
12888
12889
12890
12891
12892
12893
12894
12895
12896
12897
12898
12899
12900
12901
12902
12903
12904
12905
12906
12907
12908
12909
12910
12911
12912
12913
12914
12915
12916
12917
12918
12919
12920
12921
12922
12923
12924
12925
12926
12927
12928
12929
12930
12931
12932
12933
12934
12935
12936
12937
12938
12939
12940
12941
12942
12943
12944
12945
12946
12947
12948
12949
12950
12951
12952
12953
12954
12955
12956
12957
12958
12959
12960
12961
12962
12963
12964
12965
12966
12967
12968
12969
12970
12971
12972
12973
12974
12975
12976
12977
12978
12979
12980
12981
12982
12983
12984
12985
12986
12987
12988
12989
12990
12991
12992
12993
12994
12995
12996
12997
12998
12999
13000
13001
13002
13003
13004
13005
13006
13007
13008
13009
13010
13011
13012
13013
13014
13015
13016
13017
13018
13019
13020
13021
13022
13023
13024
13025
13026
13027
13028
13029
13030
13031
13032
13033
13034
13035
13036
13037
13038
13039
13040
13041
13042
13043
13044
13045
13046
13047
13048
13049
13050
13051
13052
13053
13054
13055
13056
13057
13058
13059
13060
13061
13062
13063
13064
13065
13066
13067
13068
13069
13070
13071
13072
13073
13074
13075
13076
13077
13078
13079
13080
13081
13082
13083
13084
13085
13086
13087
13088
13089
13090
13091
13092
13093
13094
13095
13096
13097
13098
13099
13100
13101
13102
13103
13104
13105
13106
13107
13108
13109
13110
13111
13112
13113
13114
13115
13116
13117
13118
13119
13120
13121
13122
13123
13124
13125
13126
13127
13128
13129
13130
13131
13132
13133
13134
13135
13136
13137
13138
13139
13140
13141
13142
13143
13144
13145
13146
13147
13148
13149
13150
13151
13152
13153
13154
13155
13156
13157
13158
13159
13160
13161
13162
13163
13164
13165
13166
13167
13168
13169
13170
13171
13172
13173
13174
13175
13176
13177
13178
13179
13180
13181
13182
13183
13184
13185
13186
13187
13188
13189
13190
13191
13192
13193
13194
13195
13196
13197
13198
13199
13200
13201
13202
13203
13204
13205
13206
13207
13208
13209
13210
13211
13212
13213
13214
13215
13216
13217
13218
13219
13220
13221
13222
13223
13224
13225

<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>

<!DOCTYPE html
   PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >

<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
  <head>
    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" />
    <title>
      Ruggles of Red Gap, by Harry Leon Wilson
    </title>
    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">

    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
               text-align: right;}
    .side      { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em;
               border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left;
               text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;
               font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;}
    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}

</style>
  </head>
  <body>


<pre>

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ruggles of Red Gap, by Harry Leon Wilson

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org


Title: Ruggles of Red Gap

Author: Harry Leon Wilson


Release Date: October, 2005 [EBook #9151]
This file was first posted on September 8, 2003
Last Updated: November 20, 2016

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUGGLES OF RED GAP ***




Text file produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and Distributed
Proofreaders

HTML file produced by David Widger




</pre>

    <div style="height: 8em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h1>
      RUGGLES of RED GAP
    </h1>
    <h2>
      By Harry Leon Wilson
    </h2>
    <p>
      <br />
    </p>
    <h3>
      1915
    </h3>
    <h5>
      {Illustration: &ldquo;I TAKE IT YOU FAILED TO WIN THE HUNDRED POUNDS, SIR?&rdquo;}<br />
      (Illustrations not available in this edition)
    </h5>
    <p>
      <br /> <br />
    </p>
    <h3>
      {Dedication}<br /> TO HELEN COOKE WILSON
    </h3>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <p>
      <b>CONTENTS</b>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER ONE </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER TWO </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER THREE </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER FOUR </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER FIVE </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER SIX </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER SEVEN </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER EIGHT </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER NINE </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER TEN </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER ELEVEN </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER TWELVE </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER THIRTEEN </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER FOURTEEN </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER FIFTEEN </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER SIXTEEN </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER SEVENTEEN </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER EIGHTEEN </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER NINETEEN </a>
    </p>
    <p class="toc">
      <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER TWENTY </a>
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER ONE
    </h2>
    <p>
      At 6:30 in our Paris apartment I had finished the Honourable George,
      performing those final touches that make the difference between a man well
      turned out and a man merely dressed. In the main I was not dissatisfied.
      His dress waistcoats, it is true, no longer permit the inhalation of
      anything like a full breath, and his collars clasp too closely. (I have
      always held that a collar may provide quite ample room for the throat
      without sacrifice of smartness if the depth be at least two and one
      quarter inches.) And it is no secret to either the Honourable George or
      our intimates that I have never approved his fashion of beard, a reddish,
      enveloping, brushlike affair never nicely enough trimmed. I prefer,
      indeed, no beard at all, but he stubbornly refuses to shave, possessing a
      difficult chin. Still, I repeat, he was not nearly impossible as he now
      left my hands.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Dining with the Americans,&rdquo; he remarked, as I conveyed the hat, gloves,
      and stick to him in their proper order.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; I replied. &ldquo;And might I suggest, sir, that your choice be a
      grilled undercut or something simple, bearing in mind the undoubted
      effects of shell-fish upon one&rsquo;s complexion?&rdquo; The hard truth is that after
      even a very little lobster the Honourable George has a way of coming out
      in spots. A single oyster patty, too, will often spot him quite all over.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What cheek! Decide that for myself,&rdquo; he retorted with a lame effort at
      dignity which he was unable to sustain. His eyes fell from mine. &ldquo;Besides,
      I&rsquo;m almost quite certain that the last time it was the melon. Wretched
      things, melons!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Then, as if to divert me, he rather fussily refused the correct evening
      stick I had chosen for him and seized a knobby bit of thornwood suitable
      only for moor and upland work, and brazenly quite discarded the gloves.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Feel a silly fool wearing gloves when there&rsquo;s no reason!&rdquo; he exclaimed
      pettishly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Quite so, sir,&rdquo; I replied, freezing instantly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Now, don&rsquo;t play the juggins,&rdquo; he retorted. &ldquo;Let me be comfortable. And I
      don&rsquo;t mind telling you I stand to win a hundred quid this very evening.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I dare say,&rdquo; I replied. The sum was more than needed, but I had cause to
      be thus cynical.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;From the American Johnny with the eyebrows,&rdquo; he went on with a quite
      pathetic enthusiasm. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re to play their American game of poker&mdash;drawing
      poker as they call it. I&rsquo;ve watched them play for near a fortnight. It&rsquo;s
      beastly simple. One has only to know when to bluff.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A hundred pounds, yes, sir. And if one loses&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      He flashed me a look so deucedly queer that it fair chilled me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I fancy you&rsquo;ll be even more interested than I if I lose,&rdquo; he remarked in
      tones of a curious evenness that were somehow rather deadly. The words
      seemed pregnant with meaning, but before I could weigh them I heard him
      noisily descending the stairs. It was only then I recalled having noticed
      that he had not changed to his varnished boots, having still on his feet
      the doggish and battered pair he most favoured. It was a trick of his to
      evade me with them. I did for them each day all that human boot-cream
      could do, but they were things no sensitive gentleman would endure with
      evening dress. I was glad to reflect that doubtless only Americans would
      observe them.
    </p>
    <p>
      So began the final hours of a 14th of July in Paris that must ever be
      memorable. My own birthday, it is also chosen by the French as one on
      which to celebrate with carnival some one of those regrettable events in
      their own distressing past.
    </p>
    <p>
      To begin with, the day was marked first of all by the breezing in of his
      lordship the Earl of Brinstead, brother of the Honourable George, on his
      way to England from the Engadine. More peppery than usual had his lordship
      been, his grayish side-whiskers in angry upheaval and his inflamed words
      exploding quite all over the place, so that the Honourable George and I
      had both perceived it to be no time for admitting our recent financial
      reverse at the gaming tables of Ostend. On the contrary, we had gamely
      affirmed the last quarter&rsquo;s allowance to be practically untouched&mdash;a
      desperate stand, indeed! But there was that in his lordship&rsquo;s manner to
      urge us to it, though even so he appeared to be not more than half
      deceived.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No good greening me!&rdquo; he exploded to both of us. &ldquo;Tell in a flash&mdash;gambling,
      or a woman&mdash;typing-girl, milliner, dancing person, what, what! Guilty
      faces, both of you. Know you too well. My word, what, what!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Again we stoutly protested while his lordship on the hearthrug rocked in
      his boots and glared. The Honourable George gamely rattled some loose coin
      of the baser sort in his pockets and tried in return for a glare of
      innocence foully aspersed. I dare say he fell short of it. His histrionic
      gifts are but meagre.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Fools, quite fools, both of you!&rdquo; exploded his lordship anew. &ldquo;And, make
      it worse, no longer young fools. Young and a fool, people make excuses.
      Say, &lsquo;Fool? Yes, but so young!&rsquo; But old and a fool&mdash;not a word to
      say, what, what! Silly rot at forty.&rdquo; He clutched his side-whiskers with
      frenzied hands. He seemed to comb them to a more bristling rage.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Dare say you&rsquo;ll both come croppers. Not surprise me. Silly old George,
      course, course! Hoped better of Ruggles, though. Ruggles different from
      old George. Got a brain. But can&rsquo;t use it. Have old George wed to a
      charwoman presently. Hope she&rsquo;ll be a worker. Need to be&mdash;support you
      both, what, what!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I mean to say, he was coming it pretty thick, since he could not have
      forgotten that each time I had warned him so he could hasten to save his
      brother from distressing mésalliances. I refer to the affair with the
      typing-girl and to the later entanglement with a Brixton milliner
      encountered informally under the portico of a theatre in Charing Cross
      Road. But he was in no mood to concede that I had thus far shown a
      scrupulous care in these emergencies. Peppery he was, indeed. He gathered
      hat and stick, glaring indignantly at each of them and then at us.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Greened me fair, haven&rsquo;t you, about money? Quite so, quite so! Not hear
      from you then till next quarter. No telegraphing&mdash;no begging letters.
      Shouldn&rsquo;t a bit know what to make of them. Plenty you got to last. Say so
      yourselves.&rdquo; He laughed villainously here. &ldquo;Morning,&rdquo; said he, and was
      out.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Old Nevil been annoyed by something,&rdquo; said the Honourable George after a
      long silence. &ldquo;Know the old boy too well. Always tell when he&rsquo;s been
      annoyed. Rather wish he hadn&rsquo;t been.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      So we had come to the night of this memorable day, and to the Honourable
      George&rsquo;s departure on his mysterious words about the hundred pounds.
    </p>
    <p>
      Left alone, I began to meditate profoundly. It was the closing of a day I
      had seen dawn with the keenest misgiving, having had reason to believe it
      might be fraught with significance if not disaster to myself. The year
      before a gypsy at Epsom had solemnly warned me that a great change would
      come into my life on or before my fortieth birthday. To this I might have
      paid less heed but for its disquieting confirmation on a later day at a
      psychic parlour in Edgware Road. Proceeding there in company with my
      eldest brother-in-law, a plate-layer and surfaceman on the Northern (he
      being uncertain about the Derby winner for that year), I was told by the
      person for a trifle of two shillings that I was soon to cross water and to
      meet many strange adventures. True, later events proved her to have been
      psychically unsound as to the Derby winner (so that my brother-in-law, who
      was out two pounds ten, thereby threatened to have an action against her);
      yet her reference to myself had confirmed the words of the gypsy; so it
      will be plain why I had been anxious the whole of this birthday.
    </p>
    <p>
      For one thing, I had gone on the streets as little as possible, though I
      should naturally have done that, for the behaviour of the French on this
      bank holiday of theirs is repugnant in the extreme to the sane English
      point of view&mdash;I mean their frivolous public dancing and marked
      conversational levity. Indeed, in their soberest moments, they have too
      little of British weight. Their best-dressed men are apparently turned out
      not by menservants but by modistes. I will not say their women are without
      a gift for wearing gowns, and their chefs have unquestionably got at the
      inner meaning of food, but as a people at large they would never do with
      us. Even their language is not based on reason. I have had occasion, for
      example, to acquire their word for bread, which is &ldquo;pain.&rdquo; As if that were
      not wild enough, they mispronounce it atrociously. Yet for years these
      people have been separated from us only by a narrow strip of water!
    </p>
    <p>
      By keeping close to our rooms, then, I had thought to evade what of evil
      might have been in store for me on this day. Another evening I might have
      ventured abroad to a cinema palace, but this was no time for daring, and I
      took a further precaution of locking our doors. Then, indeed, I had no
      misgiving save that inspired by the last words of the Honourable George.
      In the event of his losing the game of poker I was to be even more
      concerned than he. Yet how could evil come to me, even should the American
      do him in the eye rather frightfully? In truth, I had not the faintest
      belief that the Honourable George would win the game. He fancies himself a
      card-player, though why he should, God knows. At bridge with him every
      hand is a no-trumper. I need not say more. Also it occurred to me that the
      American would be a person not accustomed to losing. There was that about
      him.
    </p>
    <p>
      More than once I had deplored this rather Bohemian taste of the Honourable
      George which led him to associate with Americans as readily as with
      persons of his own class; and especially had I regretted his intimacy with
      the family in question. Several times I had observed them, on the occasion
      of bearing messages from the Honourable George&mdash;usually his
      acceptance of an invitation to dine. Too obviously they were rather a
      handful. I mean to say, they were people who could perhaps matter in their
      own wilds, but they would never do with us.
    </p>
    <p>
      Their leader, with whom the Honourable George had consented to game this
      evening, was a tall, careless-spoken person, with a narrow, dark face
      marked with heavy black brows that were rather tremendous in their effect
      when he did not smile. Almost at my first meeting him I divined something
      of the public man in his bearing, a suggestion, perhaps, of the confirmed
      orator, a notion in which I was somehow further set by the gesture with
      which he swept back his carelessly falling forelock. I was not surprised,
      then, to hear him referred to as the &ldquo;Senator.&rdquo; In some unexplained
      manner, the Honourable George, who is never as reserved in public as I
      could wish him to be, had chummed up with this person at one of the
      race-tracks, and had thereafter been almost quite too pally with him and
      with the very curious other members of his family&mdash;the name being
      Floud.
    </p>
    <p>
      The wife might still be called youngish, a bit florid in type, plumpish,
      with yellow hair, though to this a stain had been applied, leaving it in
      deficient consonance with her eyebrows; these shading grayish eyes that
      crackled with determination. Rather on the large side she was, forcible of
      speech and manner, yet curiously eager, I had at once detected, for the
      exactly correct thing in dress and deportment.
    </p>
    <p>
      The remaining member of the family was a male cousin of the so-called
      Senator, his senior evidently by half a score of years, since I took him
      to have reached the late fifties. &ldquo;Cousin Egbert&rdquo; he was called, and it
      was at once apparent to me that he had been most direly subjugated by the
      woman whom he addressed with great respect as &ldquo;Mrs. Effie.&rdquo; Rather a
      seamed and drooping chap he was, with mild, whitish-blue eyes like a
      porcelain doll&rsquo;s, a mournfully drooped gray moustache, and a grayish
      jumble of hair. I early remarked his hunted look in the presence of the
      woman. Timid and soft-stepping he was beyond measure.
    </p>
    <p>
      Such were the impressions I had been able to glean of these altogether
      queer people during the fortnight since the Honourable George had so
      lawlessly taken them up. Lodged they were in an hotel among the most
      expensive situated near what would have been our Trafalgar Square, and I
      later recalled that I had been most interestedly studied by the so-called
      &ldquo;Mrs. Effie&rdquo; on each of the few occasions I appeared there. I mean to say,
      she would not be above putting to me intimate questions concerning my term
      of service with the Honourable George Augustus Vane-Basingwell, the
      precise nature of the duties I performed for him, and even the exact sum
      of my honourarium. On the last occasion she had remarked&mdash;and too
      well I recall a strange glitter in her competent eyes&mdash;&ldquo;You are just
      the man needed by poor Cousin Egbert there&mdash;you could make something
      of him. Look at the way he&rsquo;s tied that cravat after all I&rsquo;ve said to him.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The person referred to here shivered noticeably, stroked his chin in a
      manner enabling him to conceal the cravat, and affected nervously to be
      taken with a sight in the street below. In some embarrassment I withdrew,
      conscious of a cold, speculative scrutiny bent upon me by the woman.
    </p>
    <p>
      If I have seemed tedious in my recital of the known facts concerning these
      extraordinary North American natives, it will, I am sure, be forgiven me
      in the light of those tragic developments about to ensue.
    </p>
    <p>
      Meantime, let me be pictured as reposing in fancied security from all evil
      predictions while I awaited the return of the Honourable George. I was
      only too certain he would come suffering from an acute acid dyspepsia, for
      I had seen lobster in his shifty eyes as he left me; but beyond this I
      apprehended nothing poignant, and I gave myself up to meditating
      profoundly upon our situation.
    </p>
    <p>
      Frankly, it was not good. I had done my best to cheer the Honourable
      George, but since our brief sojourn at Ostend, and despite the almost
      continuous hospitality of the Americans, he had been having, to put it
      bluntly, an awful hump. At Ostend, despite my remonstrance, he had staked
      and lost the major portion of his quarter&rsquo;s allowance in testing a system
      at the wheel which had been warranted by the person who sold it to him in
      London to break any bank in a day&rsquo;s play. He had meant to pause but
      briefly at Ostend, for little more than a test of the system, then proceed
      to Monte Carlo, where his proposed terrific winnings would occasion less
      alarm to the managers. Yet at Ostend the system developed such grave
      faults in the first hour of play that we were forced to lay up in Paris to
      economize.
    </p>
    <p>
      For myself I had entertained doubts of the system from the moment of its
      purchase, for it seemed awfully certain to me that the vendor would have
      used it himself instead of parting with it for a couple of quid, he being
      in plain need of fresh linen and smarter boots, to say nothing of the
      quite impossible lounge-suit he wore the night we met him in a cab shelter
      near Covent Garden. But the Honourable George had not listened to me. He
      insisted the chap had made it all enormously clear; that those
      mathematical Johnnies never valued money for its own sake, and that we
      should presently be as right as two sparrows in a crate.
    </p>
    <p>
      Fearfully annoyed I was at the dénouement. For now we were in Paris,
      rather meanly lodged in a dingy hotel on a narrow street leading from what
      with us might have been Piccadilly Circus. Our rooms were rather a good
      height with a carved cornice and plaster enrichments, but the furnishings
      were musty and the general air depressing, notwithstanding the effect of a
      few good mantel ornaments which I have long made it a rule to carry with
      me.
    </p>
    <p>
      Then had come the meeting with the Americans. Glad I was to reflect that
      this had occurred in Paris instead of London. That sort of thing gets
      about so. Even from Paris I was not a little fearful that news of his
      mixing with this raffish set might get to the ears of his lordship either
      at the town house or at Chaynes-Wotten. True, his lordship is not
      over-liberal with his brother, but that is small reason for affronting the
      pride of a family that attained its earldom in the fourteenth century.
      Indeed the family had become important quite long before this time, the
      first Vane-Basingwell having been beheaded by no less a personage than
      William the Conqueror, as I learned in one of the many hours I have been
      privileged to browse in the Chaynes-Wotten library.
    </p>
    <p>
      It need hardly be said that in my long term of service with the Honourable
      George, beginning almost from the time my mother nursed him, I have
      endeavoured to keep him up to his class, combating a certain laxness that
      has hampered him. And most stubborn he is, and wilful. At games he is
      almost quite a duffer. I once got him to play outside left on a hockey
      eleven and he excited much comment, some of which was of a favourable
      nature, but he cares little for hunting or shooting and, though it is
      scarce a matter to be gossiped of, he loathes cricket. Perhaps I have
      disclosed enough concerning him. Although the Vane-Basingwells have quite
      almost always married the right people, the Honourable George was beyond
      question born queer.
    </p>
    <p>
      Again, in the matter of marriage, he was difficult. His lordship, having
      married early into a family of poor lifes, was now long a widower, and
      meaning to remain so he had been especially concerned that the Honourable
      George should contract a proper alliance. Hence our constant worry lest he
      prove too susceptible out of his class. More than once had he shamefully
      funked his fences. There was the distressing instance of the Honourable
      Agatha Cradleigh. Quite all that could be desired of family and dower she
      was, thirty-two years old, a bit faded though still eager, with the rather
      immensely high forehead and long, thin, slightly curved Cradleigh nose.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Honourable George at his lordship&rsquo;s peppery urging had at last
      consented to a betrothal, and our troubles for a time promised to be over,
      but it came to precisely nothing. I gathered it might have been because
      she wore beads on her gown and was interested in uplift work, or that she
      bred canaries, these birds being loathed by the Honourable George with
      remarkable intensity, though it might equally have been that she still
      mourned a deceased fiancé of her early girlhood, a curate, I believe,
      whose faded letters she had preserved and would read to the Honourable
      George at intimate moments, weeping bitterly the while. Whatever may have
      been his fancied objection&mdash;that is the time we disappeared and were
      not heard of for near a twelvemonth.
    </p>
    <p>
      Wondering now I was how we should last until the next quarter&rsquo;s allowance.
      We always had lasted, but each time it was a different way. The Honourable
      George at a crisis of this sort invariably spoke of entering trade, and
      had actually talked of selling motor-cars, pointing out to me that even
      certain rulers of Europe had frankly entered this trade as agents. It
      might have proved remunerative had he known anything of motor-cars, but I
      was more than glad he did not, for I have always considered machinery to
      be unrefined. Much I preferred that he be a company promoter or something
      of that sort in the city, knowing about bonds and debentures, as many of
      the best of our families are not above doing. It seemed all he could do
      with propriety, having failed in examinations for the army and the church,
      and being incurably hostile to politics, which he declared silly rot.
    </p>
    <p>
      Sharply at midnight I aroused myself from these gloomy thoughts and
      breathed a long sigh of relief. Both gipsy and psychic expert had failed
      in their prophecies. With a lightened heart I set about the preparations I
      knew would be needed against the Honourable George&rsquo;s return. Strong in my
      conviction that he would not have been able to resist lobster, I made
      ready his hot foot-bath with its solution of brine-crystals and put the
      absorbent fruit-lozenges close by, together with his sleeping-suit, his
      bed-cap, and his knitted night-socks. Scarcely was all ready when I heard
      his step.
    </p>
    <p>
      He greeted me curtly on entering, swiftly averting his face as I took his
      stick, hat, and top-coat. But I had seen the worst at one glance. The
      Honourable George was more than spotted&mdash;he was splotchy. It was as
      bad as that.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Lobster <i>and</i> oysters,&rdquo; I made bold to remark, but he affected not
      to have heard, and proceeded rapidly to disrobe. He accepted the foot-bath
      without demur, pulling a blanket well about his shoulders, complaining of
      the water&rsquo;s temperature, and demanding three of the fruit-lozenges.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Not what you think at all,&rdquo; he then said. &ldquo;It was that cursed bar-le-duc
      jelly. Always puts me this way, and you quite well know it.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir, to be sure,&rdquo; I answered gravely, and had the satisfaction of
      noting that he looked quite a little foolish. Too well he knew I could not
      be deceived, and even now I could surmise that the lobster had been
      supported by sherry. How many times have I not explained to him that
      sherry has double the tonic vinosity of any other wine and may not be
      tampered with by the sensitive. But he chose at present to make light of
      it, almost as if he were chaffing above his knowledge of some calamity.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Some book Johnny says a chap is either a fool or a physician at forty,&rdquo;
       he remarked, drawing the blanket more closely about him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I should hardly rank you as a Harley Street consultant, sir,&rdquo; I swiftly
      retorted, which was slanging him enormously because he had turned forty. I
      mean to say, there was but one thing he could take me as meaning him to
      be, since at forty I considered him no physician. But at least I had not
      been too blunt, the touch about the Harley Street consultant being rather
      neat, I thought, yet not too subtle for him.
    </p>
    <p>
      He now demanded a pipe of tobacco, and for a time smoked in silence. I
      could see that his mind worked painfully.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Stiffish lot, those Americans,&rdquo; he said at last.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;They do so many things one doesn&rsquo;t do,&rdquo; I answered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And their brogue is not what one could call top-hole, is it now? How
      often they say &lsquo;I guess!&rsquo; I fancy they must say it a score of times in a
      half-hour.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I fancy they do, sir,&rdquo; I agreed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I fancy that Johnny with the eyebrows will say it even oftener.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I fancy so, sir. I fancy I&rsquo;ve counted it well up to that.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I fancy you&rsquo;re quite right. And the chap &lsquo;guesses&rsquo; when he awfully well
      knows, too. That&rsquo;s the essential rabbit. To-night he said &lsquo;I guess I&rsquo;ve
      got you beaten to a pulp,&rsquo; when I fancy he wasn&rsquo;t guessing at all. I mean
      to say, I swear he knew it perfectly.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You lost the game of drawing poker?&rdquo; I asked coldly, though I knew he had
      carried little to lose.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I lost&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; he began. I observed he was strangely embarrassed.
      He strangled over his pipe and began anew: &ldquo;I said that to play the game
      soundly you&rsquo;ve only to know when to bluff. Studied it out myself, and
      jolly well right I was, too, as far as I went. But there&rsquo;s further to go
      in the silly game. I hadn&rsquo;t observed that to play it greatly one must also
      know when one&rsquo;s opponent is bluffing.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Really, sir?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Oh, really; quite important, I assure you. More important than one would
      have believed, watching their silly ways. You fancy a chap&rsquo;s bluffing when
      he&rsquo;s doing nothing of the sort. I&rsquo;d enormously have liked to know it
      before we played. Things would have been so awfully different for us&rdquo;&mdash;he
      broke off curiously, paused, then added&mdash;&ldquo;for you.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Different for me, sir?&rdquo; His words seemed gruesome. They seemed open to
      some vaguely sinister interpretation. But I kept myself steady.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;We live and learn, sir,&rdquo; I said, lightly enough.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Some of us learn too late,&rdquo; he replied, increasingly ominous.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I take it you failed to win the hundred pounds, sir?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      {Illustration: &ldquo;I TAKE IT YOU FAILED TO WIN THE HUNDRED POUNDS, SIR?&rdquo;}
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I have the hundred pounds; I won it&mdash;by losing.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Again he evaded my eye.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Played, indeed, sir,&rdquo; said I.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You jolly well won&rsquo;t believe that for long.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Now as he had the hundred pounds, I couldn&rsquo;t fancy what the deuce and all
      he meant by such prattle. I was half afraid he might be having me on, as I
      have known him do now and again when he fancied he could get me. I
      fearfully wanted to ask questions. Again I saw the dark, absorbed face of
      the gipsy as he studied my future.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Rotten shift, life is,&rdquo; now murmured the Honourable George quite as if he
      had forgotten me. &ldquo;If I&rsquo;d have but put through that Monte Carlo affair I
      dare say I&rsquo;d have chucked the whole business&mdash;gone to South Africa,
      perhaps, and set up a mine or a plantation. Shouldn&rsquo;t have come back. Just
      cut off, and good-bye to this mess. But no capital. Can&rsquo;t do things
      without capital. Where these American Johnnies have the pull of us. Do
      anything. Nearly do what they jolly well like to. No sense to money. Stuff
      that runs blind. Look at the silly beggars that have it&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; On
      he went quite alarmingly with his tirade. Almost as violent he was as an
      ugly-headed chap I once heard ranting when I went with my brother-in-law
      to a meeting of the North Brixton Radical Club. Quite like an anarchist he
      was. Presently he quieted. After a long pull at his pipe he regarded me
      with an entire change of manner. Well I knew something was coming; coming
      swift as a rocketing woodcock. Word for word I put down our incredible
      speeches:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You are going out to America, Ruggles.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir; North or South, sir?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;North, I fancy; somewhere on the West coast&mdash;Ohio, Omaha, one of
      those Indian places.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Perhaps Indiana or the Yellowstone Valley, sir.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The chap&rsquo;s a sort of millionaire.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The chap, sir?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Eyebrow chap. Money no end&mdash;mines, lumber, domestic animals, that
      sort of thing.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Beg pardon, sir! I&rsquo;m to go&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Chap&rsquo;s wife taken a great fancy to you. Would have you to do for the
      funny, sad beggar. So he&rsquo;s won you. Won you in a game of drawing poker.
      Another man would have done as well, but the creature was keen for you.
      Great strength of character. Determined sort. Hope you won&rsquo;t think I
      didn&rsquo;t play soundly, but it&rsquo;s not a forthright game. Think they&rsquo;re
      bluffing when they aren&rsquo;t. When they are you mayn&rsquo;t think it. So far as
      hiding one&rsquo;s intentions, it&rsquo;s a most rottenly immoral game. Low, animal
      cunning&mdash;that sort of thing.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Do I understand I was the stake, sir?&rdquo; I controlled myself to say. The
      heavens seemed bursting about my head.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ultimately lost you were by the very trifling margin of superiority that
      a hand known as a club flush bears over another hand consisting of three
      of the eights&mdash;not quite all of them, you understand, only three, and
      two other quite meaningless cards.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I could but stammer piteously, I fear. I heard myself make a wretched
      failure of words that crowded to my lips.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But it&rsquo;s quite simple, I tell you. I dare say I could show it you in a
      moment if you&rsquo;ve cards in your box.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Thank you, sir, I&rsquo;ll not trouble you. I&rsquo;m certain it was simple. But
      would you mind telling me what exactly the game was played for?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Knew you&rsquo;d not understand at once. My word, it was not too bally simple.
      If I won I&rsquo;d a hundred pounds. If I lost I&rsquo;d to give you up to them but
      still to receive a hundred pounds. I suspect the Johnny&rsquo;s conscience
      pricked him. Thought you were worth a hundred pounds, and guessed all the
      time he could do me awfully in the eye with his poker. Quite set they were
      on having you. Eyebrow chap seemed to think it a jolly good wheeze. She
      didn&rsquo;t, though. Quite off her head at having you for that glum one who
      does himself so badly.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Dazed I was, to be sure, scarce comprehending the calamity that had
      befallen us.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Am I to understand, sir, that I am now in the service of the Americans?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Stupid! Of course, of course! Explained clearly, haven&rsquo;t I, about the
      club flush and the three eights. Only three of them, mind you. If the
      other one had been in my hand, I&rsquo;d have done him. As narrow a squeak as
      that. But I lost. And you may be certain I lost gamely, as a gentleman
      should. No laughing matter, but I laughed with them&mdash;except the
      funny, sad one. He was worried and made no secret of it. They were good
      enough to say I took my loss like a dead sport.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      More of it followed, but always the same. Ever he came back to the
      sickening, concise point that I was to go out to the American wilderness
      with these grotesque folk who had but the most elementary notions of what
      one does and what one does not do. Always he concluded with his boast that
      he had taken his loss like a dead sport. He became vexed at last by my
      painful efforts to understand how, precisely, the dreadful thing had come
      about. But neither could I endure more. I fled to my room. He had tried
      again to impress upon me that three eights are but slightly inferior to
      the flush of clubs.
    </p>
    <p>
      I faced my glass. My ordinary smooth, full face seemed to have shrivelled.
      The marks of my anguish were upon me. Vainly had I locked myself in. The
      gipsy&rsquo;s warning had borne its evil fruit. Sold, I&rsquo;d been; even as once the
      poor blackamoors were sold into American bondage. I recalled one of their
      pathetic folk-songs in which the wretches were wont to make light of their
      lamentable estate; a thing I had often heard sung by a black with a banjo
      on the pier at Brighton; not a genuine black, only dyed for the moment he
      was, but I had never lost the plaintive quality of the verses:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
    &ldquo;Away down South in Michigan,
    Where I was so happy and so gay,
    &lsquo;Twas there I mowed the cotton and the cane&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
 </pre>
    <p>
      How poignantly the simple words came back to me! A slave, day after day
      mowing his owner&rsquo;s cotton and cane, plucking the maize from the savannahs,
      yet happy and gay! Should I be equal to this spirit? The Honourable George
      had lost; so I, his pawn, must also submit like a dead sport.
    </p>
    <p>
      How little I then dreamed what adventures, what adversities, what
      ignominies&mdash;yes, and what triumphs were to be mine in those back
      blocks of North America! I saw but a bleak wilderness, a distressing
      contact with people who never for a moment would do with us. I shuddered.
      I despaired.
    </p>
    <p>
      And outside the windows gay Paris laughed and sang in the dance, ever
      unheeding my plight!
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER TWO
    </h2>
    <p>
      In that first sleep how often do we dream that our calamity has been only
      a dream. It was so in my first moments of awakening. Vestiges of some
      grotesquely hideous nightmare remained with me. Wearing the shackles of
      the slave, I had been mowing the corn under the fierce sun that beats down
      upon the American savannahs. Sickeningly, then, a wind of memory blew upon
      me and I was alive to my situation.
    </p>
    <p>
      Nor was I forgetful of the plight in which the Honourable George would now
      find himself. He is as good as lost when not properly looked after. In the
      ordinary affairs of life he is a simple, trusting, incompetent duffer, if
      ever there was one. Even in so rudimentary a matter as collar-studs he is
      like a storm-tossed mariner&mdash;I mean to say, like a chap in a boat on
      the ocean who doesn&rsquo;t know what sails to pull up nor how to steer the
      silly rudder.
    </p>
    <p>
      One rather feels exactly that about him.
    </p>
    <p>
      And now he was bound to go seedy beyond description&mdash;like the time at
      Mentone when he dreamed a system for playing the little horses, after
      which for a fortnight I was obliged to nurse a well-connected invalid in
      order that we might last over till next remittance day. The havoc he
      managed to wreak among his belongings in that time would scarce be
      believed should I set it down&mdash;not even a single boot properly treed&mdash;and
      his appearance when I was enabled to recover him (my client having behaved
      most handsomely on the eve of his departure for Spain) being such that I
      passed him in the hotel lounge without even a nod&mdash;climbing-boots,
      with trousers from his one suit of boating flannels, a blazered golfing
      waistcoat, his best morning-coat with the wide braid, a hunting-stock and
      a motoring-cap, with his beard more than discursive, as one might say,
      than I had ever seen it. If I disclose this thing it is only that my fears
      for him may be comprehended when I pictured him being permanently out of
      hand.
    </p>
    <p>
      Meditating thus bitterly, I had but finished dressing when I was startled
      by a knock on my door and by the entrance, to my summons, of the elder and
      more subdued Floud, he of the drooping mustaches and the mournful eyes of
      pale blue. One glance at his attire brought freshly to my mind the
      atrocious difficulties of my new situation. I may be credited or not, but
      combined with tan boots and wretchedly fitting trousers of a purple hue he
      wore a black frock-coat, revealing far, far too much of a blue satin
      &ldquo;made&rdquo; cravat on which was painted a cluster of tiny white flowers&mdash;lilies
      of the valley, I should say. Unbelievably above this monstrous mélange was
      a rather low-crowned bowler hat.
    </p>
    <p>
      Hardly repressing a shudder, I bowed, whereupon he advanced solemnly to me
      and put out his hand. To cover the embarrassing situation tactfully I
      extended my own, and we actually shook hands, although the clasp was
      limply quite formal.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;How do you do, Mr. Ruggles?&rdquo; he began.
    </p>
    <p>
      I bowed again, but speech failed me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;She sent me over to get you,&rdquo; he went on. He uttered the word &ldquo;She&rdquo; with
      such profound awe that I knew he could mean none other than Mrs. Effie. It
      was most extraordinary, but I dare say only what was to have been expected
      from persons of this sort. In any good-class club or among gentlemen at
      large it is customary to allow one at least twenty-four hours for the
      payment of one&rsquo;s gambling debts. Yet there I was being collected by the
      winner at so early an hour as half-after seven. If I had been a five-pound
      note instead of myself, I fancy it would have been quite the same. These
      Americans would most indecently have sent for their winnings before the
      Honourable George had awakened. One would have thought they had expected
      him to refuse payment of me after losing me the night before. How little
      they seemed to realize that we were both intending to be dead sportsmen.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Very good, sir,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;but I trust I may be allowed to brew the
      Honourable George his tea before leaving? I&rsquo;d hardly like to trust to him
      alone with it, sir.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; he said, so respectfully that it gave me an odd feeling. &ldquo;Take
      your time, Mr. Ruggles. I don&rsquo;t know as I am in any hurry on my own
      account. It&rsquo;s only account of Her.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I trust it will be remembered that in reporting this person&rsquo;s speeches I
      am making an earnest effort to set them down word for word in all their
      terrific peculiarities. I mean to say, I would not be held accountable for
      his phrasing, and if I corrected his speech, as of course the tendency is,
      our identities might become confused. I hope this will be understood when
      I report him as saying things in ways one doesn&rsquo;t word them. I mean to say
      that it should not be thought that I would say them in this way if it
      chanced that I were saying the same things in my proper person. I fancy
      this should now be plain.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Very well, sir,&rdquo; I said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;If it was me,&rdquo; he went on, &ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t want you a little bit. But it&rsquo;s
      Her. She&rsquo;s got her mind made up to do the right thing and have us all be
      somebody, and when she makes her mind up&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; He hesitated and
      studied the ceiling for some seconds. &ldquo;Believe me,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;Mrs.
      Effie is some wildcat!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir&mdash;some wildcat,&rdquo; I repeated.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Believe <i>me</i>, Bill,&rdquo; he said again, quaintly addressing me by a name
      not my own&mdash;&ldquo;believe me, she&rsquo;d fight a rattlesnake and give it the
      first two bites.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Again let it be recalled that I put down this extraordinary speech exactly
      as I heard it. I thought to detect in it that grotesque exaggeration with
      which the Americans so distressingly embellish their humour. I mean to
      say, it could hardly have been meant in all seriousness. So far as my
      researches have extended, the rattlesnake is an invariably poisonous
      reptile. Fancy giving one so downright an advantage as the first two
      bites, or even one bite, although I believe the thing does not in fact
      bite at all, but does one down with its forked tongue, of which there is
      an excellent drawing in my little volume, &ldquo;Inquire Within; 1,000 Useful
      Facts.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; I replied, somewhat at a loss; &ldquo;quite so, sir!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I just thought I&rsquo;d wise you up beforehand.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Thank you, sir,&rdquo; I said, for his intention beneath the weird jargon was
      somehow benevolent. &ldquo;And if you&rsquo;ll be good enough to wait until I have
      taken tea to the Honourable George&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;How is the Judge this morning?&rdquo; he broke in.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The Judge, sir?&rdquo; I was at a loss, until he gestured toward the room of
      the Honourable George.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The Judge, yes. Ain&rsquo;t he a justice of the peace or something?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But no, sir; not at all, sir.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Then what do you call him &lsquo;Honourable&rsquo; for, if he ain&rsquo;t a judge or
      something?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, sir, it&rsquo;s done, sir,&rdquo; I explained, but I fear he was unable to
      catch my meaning, for a moment later (the Honourable George, hearing our
      voices, had thrown a boot smartly against the door) he was addressing him
      as &ldquo;Judge&rdquo; and thereafter continued to do so, nor did the Honourable
      George seem to make any moment of being thus miscalled.
    </p>
    <p>
      I served the Ceylon tea, together with biscuits and marmalade, the while
      our caller chatted nervously. He had, it appeared, procured his own
      breakfast while on his way to us.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I got to have my ham and eggs of a morning,&rdquo; he confided. &ldquo;But she won&rsquo;t
      let me have anything at that hotel but a continental breakfast, which is
      nothing but coffee and toast and some of that there sauce you&rsquo;re eating.
      She says when I&rsquo;m on the continent I got to eat a continental breakfast,
      because that&rsquo;s the smart thing to do, and not stuff myself like I was on
      the ranch; but I got that game beat both ways from the jack. I duck out
      every morning before she&rsquo;s up. I found a place where you can get regular
      ham and eggs.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Regular ham and eggs?&rdquo; murmured the Honourable George.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;French ham and eggs is a joke. They put a slice of boiled ham in a little
      dish, slosh a couple of eggs on it, and tuck the dish into the oven a few
      minutes. Say, they won&rsquo;t ever believe that back in Red Gap when I tell it.
      But I found this here little place where they do it right, account of
      Americans having made trouble so much over the other way. But, mind you,
      don&rsquo;t let on to her,&rdquo; he warned me suddenly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Certainly not, sir,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;Trust me to be discreet, sir.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;All right, then. Maybe we&rsquo;ll get on better than what I thought we would.
      I was looking for trouble with you, the way she&rsquo;s been talking about what
      you&rsquo;d do for me.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I trust matters will be pleasant, sir,&rdquo; I replied.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I can be pushed just so far,&rdquo; he curiously warned me, &ldquo;and no farther&mdash;not
      by any man that wears hair.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; I said again, wondering what the wearing of hair might mean to
      this process of pushing him, and feeling rather absurdly glad that my own
      face is smoothly shaven.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll find Ruggles fairish enough after you&rsquo;ve got used to his ways,&rdquo;
       put in the Honourable George.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;All right, Judge; and remember it wasn&rsquo;t my doings,&rdquo; said my new
      employer, rising and pulling down to his ears his fearful bowler hat. &ldquo;And
      now we better report to her before she does a hot-foot over here. You can
      pack your grip later in the day,&rdquo; he added to me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Pack my grip&mdash;yes, sir,&rdquo; I said numbly, for I was on the tick of
      leaving the Honourable George helpless in bed. In a voice that I fear was
      broken I spoke of clothes for the day&rsquo;s wear which I had laid out for him
      the night before. He waved a hand bravely at us and sank back into his
      pillow as my new employer led me forth. There had been barely a glance
      between us to betoken the dreadfulness of the moment.
    </p>
    <p>
      At our door I was pleased to note that a taximetre cab awaited us. I had
      acutely dreaded a walk through the streets, even of Paris, with my new
      employer garbed as he was. The blue satin cravat of itself would have been
      bound to insure us more attention than one would care for.
    </p>
    <p>
      I fear we were both somewhat moody during the short ride. Each of us
      seemed to have matters of weight to reflect upon. Only upon reaching our
      destination did my companion brighten a bit. For a fare of five francs
      forty centimes he gave the driver a ten-franc piece and waited for no
      change.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I always get around them that way,&rdquo; he said with an expression of the
      brightest cunning. &ldquo;She used to have the laugh on me because I got so much
      counterfeit money handed to me. Now I don&rsquo;t take any change at all.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;Quite right, sir.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;There&rsquo;s more than one way to skin a cat,&rdquo; he added as we ascended to the
      Floud&rsquo;s drawing-room, though why his mind should have flown to this brutal
      sport, if it be a sport, was quite beyond me. At the door he paused and
      hissed at me: &ldquo;Remember, no matter what she says, if you treat me white
      I&rsquo;ll treat you white.&rdquo; And before I could frame any suitable response to
      this puzzling announcement he had opened the door and pushed me in, almost
      before I could remove my cap.
    </p>
    <p>
      Seated at the table over coffee and rolls was Mrs. Effie. Her face
      brightened as she saw me, then froze to disapproval as her glance rested
      upon him I was to know as Cousin Egbert. I saw her capable mouth set in a
      straight line of determination.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You did your very worst, didn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; she began. &ldquo;But sit down and eat
      your breakfast. He&rsquo;ll soon change <i>that</i>.&rdquo; She turned to me. &ldquo;Now,
      Ruggles, I hope you understand the situation, and I&rsquo;m sure I can trust you
      to take no nonsense from him. You see plainly what you&rsquo;ve got to do. I let
      him dress to suit himself this morning, so that you could know the worst
      at once. Take a good look at him&mdash;shoes, coat, hat&mdash;that
      dreadful cravat!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I call this a right pretty necktie,&rdquo; mumbled her victim over a crust of
      toast. She had poured coffee for him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You hear that?&rdquo; she asked me. I bowed sympathetically.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What does he look like?&rdquo; she insisted. &ldquo;Just tell him for his own good,
      please.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      But this I could not do. True enough, during our short ride he had been
      reminding me of one of a pair of cross-talk comedians I had once seen in a
      music-hall. This, of course, was not a thing one could say.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I dare say, Madam, he could be smartened up a bit. If I might take him to
      some good-class shop&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And burn the things he&rsquo;s got on&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; she broke in.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Not this here necktie,&rdquo; interrupted Cousin Egbert rather stubbornly. &ldquo;It
      was give to me by Jeff Tuttle&rsquo;s littlest girl last Christmas; and this
      here Prince Albert coat&mdash;what&rsquo;s the matter of it, I&rsquo;d like to know?
      It come right from the One Price Clothing Store at Red Gap, and it&rsquo;s
      plenty good to go to funerals in&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And then to a barber-shop with him,&rdquo; went on Mrs. Effie, who had paid no
      heed to his outburst. &ldquo;Get him done right for once.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Her relative continued to nibble nervously at a bit of toast.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve done something with him myself,&rdquo; she said, watching him narrowly.
      &ldquo;At first he insisted on having the whole bill-of-fare for breakfast, but
      I put my foot down, and now he&rsquo;s satisfied with the continental breakfast.
      That goes to show he has something in him, if we can only bring it out.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Something in him, indeed, yes, Madam!&rdquo; I assented, and Cousin Egbert,
      turning to me, winked heavily.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I want him to look like some one,&rdquo; she resumed, &ldquo;and I think you&rsquo;re the
      man can make him if you&rsquo;re firm with him; but you&rsquo;ll have to be firm,
      because he&rsquo;s full of tricks. And if he starts any rough stuff, just come
      to me.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Quite so, Madam,&rdquo; I said, but I felt I was blushing with shame at hearing
      one of my own sex so slanged by a woman. That sort of thing would never do
      with us. And yet there was something about this woman&mdash;something
      weirdly authoritative. She showed rather well in the morning light, her
      gray eyes crackling as she talked. She was wearing a most elaborate
      peignoir, and of course she should not have worn the diamonds; it seemed
      almost too much like the morning hour of a stage favourite; but still one
      felt that when she talked one would do well to listen.
    </p>
    <p>
      Hereupon Cousin Egbert startled me once more.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you set up and have something with us, Mr. Ruggles?&rdquo; he asked me.
    </p>
    <p>
      I looked away, affecting not to have heard, and could feel Mrs. Effie
      scowling at him. He coughed into his cup and sprayed coffee well over
      himself. His intention had been obvious in the main, though exactly what
      he had meant by &ldquo;setting up&rdquo; I couldn&rsquo;t fancy&mdash;as if I had been a
      performing poodle!
    </p>
    <p>
      The moment&rsquo;s embarrassment was well covered by Mrs. Effie, who again
      renewed her instructions, and from an escritoire brought me a sheaf of the
      pretentiously printed sheets which the French use in place of our
      banknotes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You will spare no expense,&rdquo; she directed, &ldquo;and don&rsquo;t let me see him again
      until he looks like some one. Try to have him back here by five. Some very
      smart friends of ours are coming for tea.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t drink tea at that outlandish hour for any one,&rdquo; said Cousin
      Egbert rather snappishly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You will at least refuse it like a man of the world, I hope,&rdquo; she replied
      icily, and he drooped submissive once more. &ldquo;You see?&rdquo; she added to me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Quite so, Madam,&rdquo; I said, and resolved to be firm and thorough with
      Cousin Egbert. In a way I was put upon my mettle. I swore to make him look
      like some one. Moreover, I now saw that his half-veiled threats of
      rebellion to me had been pure swank. I had in turn but to threaten to
      report him to this woman and he would be as clay in my hands.
    </p>
    <p>
      I presently had him tucked into a closed taxicab, half-heartedly muttering
      expostulations and protests to which I paid not the least heed. During my
      strolls I had observed in what would have been Regent Street at home a
      rather good-class shop with an English name, and to this I now proceeded
      with my charge. I am afraid I rather hustled him across the pavement and
      into the shop, not knowing what tricks he might be up to, and not until he
      was well to the back did I attempt to explain myself to the shop-walker
      who had followed us. To him I then gave details of my charge&rsquo;s escape from
      a burning hotel the previous night, which accounted for his extraordinary
      garb of the moment, he having been obliged to accept the loan of garments
      that neither fitted him nor harmonized with one another. I mean to say, I
      did not care to have the chap suspect we would don tan boots, a
      frock-coat, and bowler hat except under the most tremendous compulsion.
    </p>
    <p>
      Cousin Egbert stared at me open mouthed during this recital, but the
      shop-walker was only too readily convinced, as indeed who would not have
      been, and called an intelligent assistant to relieve our distress. With
      his help I swiftly selected an outfit that was not half bad for
      ready-to-wear garments. There was a black morning-coat, snug at the waist,
      moderately broad at the shoulders, closing with two buttons, its skirt
      sharply cut away from the lower button and reaching to the bend of the
      knee. The lapels were, of course, soft-rolled and joined the collar with a
      triangular notch. It is a coat of immense character when properly worn,
      and I was delighted to observe in the trying on that Cousin Egbert filled
      it rather smartly. Moreover, he submitted more meekly than I had hoped.
      The trousers I selected were of gray cloth, faintly striped, the waistcoat
      being of the same material as the coat, relieved at the neck-opening by an
      edging of white.
    </p>
    <p>
      With the boots I had rather more trouble, as he refused to wear the patent
      leathers that I selected, together with the pearl gray spats, until I
      grimly requested the telephone assistant to put me through to the hotel,
      desiring to speak to Mrs. Senator Floud. This brought him around, although
      muttering, and I had less trouble with shirts, collars, and cravats. I
      chose a shirt of white piqué, a wing collar with small, square-cornered
      tabs, and a pearl ascot.
    </p>
    <p>
      Then in a cabinet I superintended Cousin Egbert&rsquo;s change of raiment. We
      clashed again in the matter of sock-suspenders, which I was astounded to
      observe he did not possess. He insisted that he had never worn them&mdash;garters
      he called them&mdash;and never would if he were shot for it, so I decided
      to be content with what I had already gained.
    </p>
    <p>
      By dint of urging and threatening I at length achieved my ground-work and
      was more than a little pleased with my effect, as was the shop-assistant,
      after I had tied the pearl ascot and adjusted a quiet tie-pin of my own
      choosing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Now I hope you&rsquo;re satisfied!&rdquo; growled my charge, seizing his bowler hat
      and edging off.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;By no means,&rdquo; I said coldly. &ldquo;The hat, if you please, sir.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      He gave it up rebelliously, and I had again to threaten him with the
      telephone before he would submit to a top-hat with a moderate bell and
      broad brim. Surveying this in the glass, however, he became perceptibly
      reconciled. It was plain that he rather fancied it, though as yet he wore
      it consciously and would turn his head slowly and painfully, as if his
      neck were stiffened.
    </p>
    <p>
      Having chosen the proper gloves, I was, I repeat, more than pleased with
      this severely simple scheme of black, white, and gray. I felt I had been
      wise to resist any tendency to colour, even to the most delicate of pastel
      tints. My last selection was a smartish Malacca stick, the ideal stick for
      town wear, which I thrust into the defenceless hands of my client.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And now, sir,&rdquo; I said firmly, &ldquo;it is but a step to a barber&rsquo;s stop where
      English is spoken.&rdquo; And ruefully he accompanied me. I dare say that by
      that time he had discovered that I was not to be trifled with, for during
      his hour in the barber&rsquo;s chair he did not once rebel openly. Only at times
      would he roll his eyes to mine in dumb appeal. There was in them something
      of the utter confiding helplessness I had noted in the eyes of an old
      setter at Chaynes-Wotten when I had been called upon to assist the
      undergardener in chloroforming him. I mean to say, the dog had jolly well
      known something terrible was being done to him, yet his eyes seemed to say
      he knew it must be all for the best and that he trusted us. It was this
      look I caught as I gave directions about the trimming of the hair, and
      especially when I directed that something radical should be done to the
      long, grayish moustache that fell to either side of his chin in the form
      of a horseshoe. I myself was puzzled by this difficulty, but the barber
      solved it rather neatly, I thought, after a whispered consultation with
      me. He snipped a bit off each end and then stoutly waxed the whole affair
      until the ends stood stiffly out with distinct military implications. I
      shall never forget, and indeed I was not a little touched by the look of
      quivering anguish in the eyes of my client when he first beheld this novel
      effect. And yet when we were once more in the street I could not but admit
      that the change was worth all that it had cost him in suffering.
      Strangely, he now looked like some one, especially after I had persuaded
      him to a carnation for his buttonhole. I cannot say that his carriage was
      all that it should have been, and he was still conscious of his smart
      attire, but I nevertheless felt a distinct thrill of pride in my own work,
      and was eager to reveal him to Mrs. Effie in his new guise.
    </p>
    <p>
      But first he would have luncheon&mdash;dinner he called it&mdash;and I was
      not averse to this, for I had put in a long and trying morning. I went
      with him to the little restaurant where Americans had made so much trouble
      about ham and eggs, and there he insisted that I should join him in chops
      and potatoes and ale. I thought it only proper then to point out to him
      that there was certain differences in our walks of life which should be
      more or less denoted by his manner of addressing me. Among other things he
      should not address me as Mr. Ruggles, nor was it customary for a valet to
      eat at the same table with his master. He seemed much interested in these
      distinctions and thereupon addressed me as &ldquo;Colonel,&rdquo; which was of course
      quite absurd, but this I could not make him see. Thereafter, I may say,
      that he called me impartially either &ldquo;Colonel&rdquo; or &ldquo;Bill.&rdquo; It was a
      situation that I had never before been obliged to meet, and I found it
      trying in the extreme. He was a chap who seemed ready to pal up with any
      one, and I could not but recall the strange assertion I had so often heard
      that in America one never knows who is one&rsquo;s superior. Fancy that! It
      would never do with us. I could only determine to be on my guard.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our luncheon done, he consented to accompany me to the hotel of the
      Honourable George, whence I wished to remove my belongings. I should have
      preferred to go alone, but I was too fearful of what he might do to
      himself or his clothes in my absence.
    </p>
    <p>
      We found the Honourable George still in bed, as I had feared. He had, it
      seemed, been unable to discover his collar studs, which, though I had
      placed them in a fresh shirt for him, he had carelessly covered with a
      blanket. Begging Cousin Egbert to be seated in my room, I did a few of the
      more obvious things required by my late master.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You&rsquo;d leave me here like a rat in a trap,&rdquo; he said reproachfully, which I
      thought almost quite a little unjust. I mean to say, it had all been his
      own doing, he having lost me in the game of drawing poker, so why should
      he row me about it now? I silently laid out the shirt once more.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You might have told me where I&rsquo;m to find my brown tweeds and the body
      linen.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Again he was addressing me as if I had voluntarily left him without
      notice, but I observed that he was still mildly speckled from the night
      before, so I handed him the fruit-lozenges, and went to pack my own box.
      Cousin Egbert I found sitting as I had left him, on the edge of a chair,
      carefully holding his hat, stick, and gloves, and staring into the wall.
      He had promised me faithfully not to fumble with his cravat, and evidently
      he had not once stirred. I packed my box swiftly&mdash;my &ldquo;grip,&rdquo; as he
      called it&mdash;and we were presently off once more, without another sight
      of the Honourable George, who was to join us at tea. I could hear him
      moving about, using rather ultra-frightful language, but I lacked heart
      for further speech with him at the moment.
    </p>
    <p>
      An hour later, in the Floud drawing-room, I had the supreme satisfaction
      of displaying to Mrs. Effie the happy changes I had been able to effect in
      my charge. Posing him, I knocked at the door of her chamber. She came at
      once and drew a long breath as she surveyed him, from varnished boots,
      spats, and coat to top-hat, which he still wore. He leaned rather well on
      his stick, the hand to his hip, the elbow out, while the other hand
      lightly held his gloves. A moment she looked, then gave a low cry of
      wonder and delight, so that I felt repaid for my trouble. Indeed, as she
      faced me to thank me I could see that her eyes were dimmed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Wonderful!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;Now he looks like some one!&rdquo; And I distinctly
      perceived that only just in time did she repress an impulse to grasp me by
      the hand. Under the circumstances I am not sure that I wouldn&rsquo;t have
      overlooked the lapse had she yielded to it. &ldquo;Wonderful!&rdquo; she said again.
    </p>
    <p>
      {Illustration: &ldquo;WONDERFUL! NOW HE LOOKS LIKE SOME ONE&rdquo;}
    </p>
    <p>
      Hereupon Cousin Egbert, much embarrassed, leaned his stick against the
      wall; the stick fell, and in reaching down for it his hat fell, and in
      reaching for that he dropped his gloves; but I soon restored him to order
      and he was safely seated where he might be studied in further detail,
      especially as to his moustaches, which I had considered rather the supreme
      touch.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He looks exactly like some well-known clubman,&rdquo; exclaimed Mrs. Effie.
    </p>
    <p>
      Her relative growled as if he were quite ready to savage her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Like a man about town,&rdquo; she murmured. &ldquo;Who would have thought he had it
      in him until you brought it out?&rdquo; I knew then that we two should
      understand each other.
    </p>
    <p>
      The slight tension was here relieved by two of the hotel servants who
      brought tea things. At a nod from Mrs. Effie I directed the laying out of
      these.
    </p>
    <p>
      At that moment came the other Floud, he of the eyebrows, and a cousin cub
      called Elmer, who, I understood, studied art. I became aware that they
      were both suddenly engaged and silenced by the sight of Cousin Egbert. I
      caught their amazed stares, and then terrifically they broke into gales of
      laughter. The cub threw himself on a couch, waving his feet in the air,
      and holding his middle as if he&rsquo;d suffered a sudden acute dyspepsia, while
      the elder threw his head back and shrieked hysterically. Cousin Egbert
      merely glared at them and, endeavouring to stroke his moustache, succeeded
      in unwaxing one side of it so that it once more hung limply down his chin,
      whereat they renewed their boorishness. The elder Floud was now quite
      dangerously purple, and the cub on the couch was shrieking: &ldquo;No matter how
      dark the clouds, remember she is still your stepmother,&rdquo; or words to some
      such silly effect as that. How it might have ended I hardly dare
      conjecture&mdash;perhaps Cousin Egbert would presently have roughed them&mdash;but
      a knock sounded, and it became my duty to open our door upon other guests,
      women mostly; Americans in Paris; that sort of thing.
    </p>
    <p>
      I served the tea amid their babble. The Honourable George was shown up a
      bit later, having done to himself quite all I thought he might in the
      matter of dress. In spite of serious discrepancies in his attire, however,
      I saw that Mrs. Effie meant to lionize him tremendously. With vast
      ceremony he was presented to her guests&mdash;the Honourable George
      Augustus Vane-Basingwell, brother of his lordship the Earl of Brinstead.
      The women fluttered about him rather, though he behaved moodily, and at
      the first opportunity fell to the tea and cakes quite wholeheartedly.
    </p>
    <p>
      In spite of my aversion to the American wilderness, I felt a bit of
      professional pride in reflecting that my first day in this new service was
      about to end so auspiciously. Yet even in that moment, being as yet
      unfamiliar with the room&rsquo;s lesser furniture, I stumbled slightly against a
      hassock hid from me by the tray I carried. A cup of tea was lost, though
      my recovery was quick. Too late I observed that the hitherto self-effacing
      Cousin Egbert was in range of my clumsiness.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;There goes tea all over my new pants!&rdquo; he said in a high, pained voice.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Sorry, indeed, sir,&rdquo; said I, a ready napkin in hand. &ldquo;Let me dry it,
      sir!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir, I fancy quite so, sir,&rdquo; said he.
    </p>
    <p>
      I most truly would have liked to shake him smartly for this. I saw that my
      work was cut out for me among these Americans, from whom at their best one
      expects so little.
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER THREE
    </h2>
    <p>
      As I brisked out of bed the following morning at half-after six, I could
      not but wonder rather nervously what the day might have in store for me. I
      was obliged to admit that what I was in for looked a bit thick. As I
      opened my door I heard stealthy footsteps down the hall and looked out in
      time to observe Cousin Egbert entering his own room. It was not this that
      startled me. He would have been abroad, I knew, for the ham and eggs that
      were forbidden him. Yet I stood aghast, for with the lounge-suit of tweeds
      I had selected the day before he had worn his top-hat! I am aware that
      these things I relate of him may not be credited. I can only put them down
      in all sincerity.
    </p>
    <p>
      I hastened to him and removed the thing from his head. I fear it was not
      with the utmost deference, for I have my human moments.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s not done, sir,&rdquo; I protested. He saw that I was offended.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;All right, sir,&rdquo; he replied meekly. &ldquo;But how was I to know? I thought it
      kind of set me off.&rdquo; He referred to it as a &ldquo;stove-pipe&rdquo; hat. I knew then
      that I should find myself overlooking many things in him. He was not a
      person one could be stern with, and I even promised that Mrs. Effie should
      not be told of his offence, he promising in turn never again to stir
      abroad without first submitting himself to me and agreeing also to wear
      sock-suspenders from that day forth. I saw, indeed, that diplomacy might
      work wonders with him.
    </p>
    <p>
      At breakfast in the drawing-room, during which Cousin Egbert earned warm
      praise from Mrs. Effie for his lack of appetite (he winking violently at
      me during this), I learned that I should be expected to accompany him to a
      certain art gallery which corresponds to our British Museum. I was a bit
      surprised, indeed, to learn that he largely spent his days there, and was
      accustomed to make notes of the various objects of interest.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I insisted,&rdquo; explained Mrs. Effie, &ldquo;that he should absorb all the culture
      he could on his trip abroad, so I got him a notebook in which he puts down
      his impressions, and I must say he&rsquo;s done fine. Some of his remarks are so
      good that when he gets home I may have him read a paper before our Onwards
      and Upwards Club.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Cousin Egbert wriggled modestly at this and said: &ldquo;Shucks!&rdquo; which I took
      to be a term of deprecation.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You needn&rsquo;t pretend,&rdquo; said Mrs. Effie. &ldquo;Just let Ruggles here look over
      some of the notes you have made,&rdquo; and she handed me a notebook of ruled
      paper in which there was a deal of writing. I glanced, as bidden, at one
      or two of the paragraphs, and confess that I, too, was amazed at the
      fluency and insight displayed along lines in which I should have thought
      the man entirely uninformed. &ldquo;This choice work represents the first or
      formative period of the Master,&rdquo; began one note, &ldquo;but distinctly
      foreshadows that later method which made him at once the hope and despair
      of his contemporaries. In the &lsquo;Portrait of the Artist by Himself&rsquo; we have
      a canvas that well repays patient study, since here is displayed in its
      full flower that ruthless realism, happily attenuated by a superbly subtle
      delicacy of brush work&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; It was really quite amazing, and I
      perceived for the first time that Cousin Egbert must be &ldquo;a diamond in the
      rough,&rdquo; as the well-known saying has it. I felt, indeed, that I would be
      very pleased to accompany him on one of his instructive strolls through
      this gallery, for I have always been of a studious habit and anxious to
      improve myself in the fine arts.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You see?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Effie, when I had perused this fragment. &ldquo;And yet
      folks back home would tell you that he&rsquo;s just a&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; Cousin
      Egbert here coughed alarmingly. &ldquo;No matter,&rdquo; she continued. &ldquo;He&rsquo;ll show
      them that he&rsquo;s got something in him, mark my words.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Quite so, Madam,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;and I shall consider it a privilege to be
      present when he further prosecutes his art studies.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You may keep him out till dinner-time,&rdquo; she continued. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m shopping this
      morning, and in the afternoon I shall motor to have tea in the Boy with
      the Senator and Mr. Nevil Vane-Basingwell.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Presently, then, my charge and I set out for what I hoped was to be a
      peaceful and instructive day among objects of art, though first I was
      obliged to escort him to a hatter&rsquo;s and glover&rsquo;s to remedy some minor
      discrepancies in his attire. He was very pleased when I permitted him to
      select his own hat. I was safe in this, as the shop was really artists in
      gentlemen&rsquo;s headwear, and carried only shapes, I observed, that were
      confined to exclusive firms so as to insure their being worn by the right
      set. As to gloves and a stick, he was again rather pettish and had to be
      set right with some firmness. He declared he had lost his stick and gloves
      of the previous day. I discovered later that he had presented them to the
      lift attendant. But I soon convinced him that he would not be let to
      appear without these adjuncts to a gentleman&rsquo;s toilet.
    </p>
    <p>
      Then, having once more stood by at the barber&rsquo;s while he was shaved and
      his moustaches firmly waxed anew, I saw that he was fit at last for his
      art studies. The barber this day suggested curling the moustaches with a
      heated iron, but at this my charge fell into so unseemly a rage that I
      deemed it wise not to insist. He, indeed, bluntly threatened a nameless
      violence to the barber if he were so much as touched with the iron, and
      revealed an altogether shocking gift for profanity, saying loudly: &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll
      be&mdash;dashed&mdash;if you will!&rdquo; I mean to say, I have written &ldquo;dashed&rdquo;
       for what he actually said. But at length I had him once more quieted.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Now, sir,&rdquo; I said, when I had got him from the barber&rsquo;s shop, to the
      barber&rsquo;s manifest relief: &ldquo;I fancy we&rsquo;ve time to do a few objects of art
      before luncheon. I&rsquo;ve the book here for your comments,&rdquo; I added.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Quite so,&rdquo; he replied, and led me at a rapid pace along the street in
      what I presumed was the direction of the art museum. At the end of a few
      blocks he paused at one of those open-air public houses that disgracefully
      line the streets of the French capital. I mean to say that chairs and
      tables are set out upon the pavement in the most brazen manner and
      occupied by the populace, who there drink their silly beverages and idle
      away their time. After scanning the score or so of persons present, even
      at so early an hour as ten of the morning, he fell into one of the iron
      chairs at one of the iron tables and motioned me to another at his side.
    </p>
    <p>
      When I had seated myself he said &ldquo;Beer&rdquo; to the waiter who appeared, and
      held up two fingers.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Now, look at here,&rdquo; he resumed to me, &ldquo;this is a good place to do about
      four pages of art, and then we can go out and have some recreation
      somewhere.&rdquo; Seeing that I was puzzled, he added: &ldquo;This way&mdash;you take
      that notebook and write in it out of this here other book till I think
      you&rsquo;ve done enough, then I&rsquo;ll tell you to stop.&rdquo; And while I was still
      bewildered, he drew from an inner pocket a small, well-thumbed volume
      which I took from him and saw to be entitled &ldquo;One Hundred Masterpieces of
      the Louvre.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Open her about the middle,&rdquo; he directed, &ldquo;and pick out something that
      begins good, like &lsquo;Here the true art-lover will stand entranced&mdash;&mdash;&rsquo; 
      You got to write it, because I guess you can write faster than what I can.
      I&rsquo;ll tell her I dictated to you. Get a hustle on now, so&rsquo;s we can get
      through. Write down about four pages of that stuff.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Stunned I was for a moment at his audacity. Too plainly I saw through his
      deception. Each day, doubtless, he had come to a low place of this sort
      and copied into the notebook from the printed volume.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But, sir,&rdquo; I protested, &ldquo;why not at least go to the gallery where these
      art objects are stored? Copy the notes there if that must be done.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know where the darned place is,&rdquo; he confessed. &ldquo;I did start for
      it the first day, but I run into a Punch and Judy show in a little park,
      and I just couldn&rsquo;t get away from it, it was so comical, with all the
      French kids hollering their heads off at it. Anyway, what&rsquo;s the use? I&rsquo;d
      rather set here in front of this saloon, where everything is nice.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s very extraordinary, sir,&rdquo; I said, wondering if I oughtn&rsquo;t to cut off
      to the hotel and warn Mrs. Effie so that she might do a heated foot to
      him, as he had once expressed it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, I guess I&rsquo;ve got my rights as well as anybody,&rdquo; he insisted. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll
      be pushed just so far and no farther, not if I never get any more cultured
      than a jack-rabbit. And now you better go on and write or I&rsquo;ll be&mdash;dashed&mdash;if
      I&rsquo;ll ever wear another thing you tell me to.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      He had a most bitter and dangerous expression on his face, so I thought
      best to humour him once more. Accordingly I set about writing in his
      notebook from the volume of criticism he had supplied.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Change a word now and then and skip around here and there,&rdquo; he suggested
      as I wrote, &ldquo;so&rsquo;s it&rsquo;ll sound more like me.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Quite so, sir,&rdquo; I said, and continued to transcribe from the printed
      page. I was beginning the fifth page in the notebook, being in the midst
      of an enthusiastic description of the bit of statuary entitled &ldquo;The Winged
      Victory,&rdquo; when I was startled by a wild yell in my ear. Cousin Egbert had
      leaped to his feet and now danced in the middle of the pavement, waving
      his stick and hat high in the air and shouting incoherently. At once we
      attracted the most undesirable attention from the loungers about us, the
      waiters and the passers-by in the street, many of whom stopped at once to
      survey my charge with the liveliest interest. It was then I saw that he
      had merely wished to attract the attention of some one passing in a cab.
      Half a block down the boulevard I saw a man likewise waving excitedly,
      standing erect in the cab to do so. The cab thereupon turned sharply, came
      back on the opposite side of the street, crossed over to us, and the
      occupant alighted.
    </p>
    <p>
      He was an American, as one might have fancied from his behaviour, a tall,
      dark-skinned person, wearing a drooping moustache after the former style
      of Cousin Egbert, supplemented by an imperial. He wore a loose-fitting
      suit of black which had evidently received no proper attention from the
      day he purchased it. Under a folded collar he wore a narrow cravat tied in
      a bowknot, and in the bosom of his white shirt there sparkled a diamond
      such as might have come from a collection of crown-jewels. This much I had
      time to notice as he neared us. Cousin Egbert had not ceased to shout, nor
      had he paid the least attention to my tugs at his coat. When the cab&rsquo;s
      occupant descended to the pavement they fell upon each other and did for
      some moments a wild dance such as I imagine they might have seen the red
      Indians of western America perform. Most savagely they punched each other,
      calling out in the meantime: &ldquo;Well, old horse!&rdquo; and &ldquo;Who&rsquo;d ever expected
      to see you here, darn your old skin!&rdquo; (Their actual phrases, be it
      remembered.)
    </p>
    <p>
      The crowd, I was glad to note, fell rapidly away, many of them shrugging
      their shoulders in a way the French have, and even the waiters about us
      quickly lost interest in the pair, as if they were hardened to the sight
      of Americans greeting one another. The two were still saying: &ldquo;Well!
      well!&rdquo; rather breathlessly, but had become a bit more coherent.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Jeff Tuttle, you&mdash;dashed&mdash;old long-horn!&rdquo; exclaimed Cousin
      Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Good old Sour-dough!&rdquo; exploded the other. &ldquo;Ain&rsquo;t this just like old home
      week!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I thought mebbe you wouldn&rsquo;t know me with all my beadwork and my new
      war-bonnet on,&rdquo; continued Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Know you, why, you knock-kneed old Siwash, I could pick out your hide in
      a tanyard!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, well, well!&rdquo; replied Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, well, well!&rdquo; said the other, and again they dealt each other smart
      blows.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Where&rsquo;d you turn up from?&rdquo; demanded Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Europe,&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;We been all over Europe and Italy&mdash;just
      come from some place up over the divide where they talk Dutch, the Madam
      and the two girls and me, with the Reverend Timmins and his wife riding
      line on us. Say, he&rsquo;s an out-and-out devil for cathedrals&mdash;it&rsquo;s just
      one church after another with him&mdash;Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian,
      Lutheran, takes &lsquo;em all in&mdash;never overlooks a bet. He&rsquo;s got Addie and
      the girls out now. My gosh! it&rsquo;s solemn work! Me? I ducked out this
      morning.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;How&rsquo;d you do it?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Told the little woman I had to have a tooth pulled&mdash;I was working it
      up on the train all day yesterday. Say, what you all rigged out like that
      for, Sour-dough, and what you done to your face?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Cousin Egbert here turned to me in some embarrassment. &ldquo;Colonel Ruggles,
      shake hands with my friend Jeff Tuttle from the State of Washington.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Pleased to meet you, Colonel,&rdquo; said the other before I could explain that
      I had no military title whatever, never having, in fact, served our King,
      even in the ranks. He shook my hand warmly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Any friend of Sour-dough Floud&rsquo;s is all right with me,&rdquo; he assured me.
      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter with having a drink?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Say, listen here! I wouldn&rsquo;t have to be blinded and backed into it,&rdquo; said
      Cousin Egbert, enigmatically, I thought, but as they sat down I, too,
      seated myself. Something within me had sounded a warning. As well as I
      know it now I knew then in my inmost soul that I should summon Mrs. Effie
      before matters went farther.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Beer is all I know how to say,&rdquo; suggested Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Leave that to me,&rdquo; said his new friend masterfully. &ldquo;Where&rsquo;s the boy?
      Here, boy! Veesky-soda! That&rsquo;s French for high-ball,&rdquo; he explained. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve
      had to pick up a lot of their lingo.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Cousin Egbert looked at him admiringly. &ldquo;Good old Jeff!&rdquo; he said simply.
      He glanced aside to me for a second with downright hostility, then turned
      back to his friend. &ldquo;Something tells me, Jeff, that this is going to be
      the first happy day I&rsquo;ve had since I crossed the state line. I&rsquo;ve been
      pestered to death, Jeff&mdash;what with Mrs. Effie after me to improve
      myself so&rsquo;s I can be a social credit to her back in Red Gap, and learn to
      wear clothes and go without my breakfast and attend art galleries. If
      you&rsquo;d stand by me I&rsquo;d throw her down good and hard right now, but you know
      what she is&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I sure do,&rdquo; put in Mr. Tuttle so fervently that I knew he spoke the
      truth. &ldquo;That woman can bite through nails. But here&rsquo;s your drink,
      Sour-dough. Maybe it will cheer you up.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Extraordinary! I mean to say, biting through nails.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Three rousing cheers!&rdquo; exclaimed Cousin Egbert with more animation than I
      had ever known him display.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Here&rsquo;s looking at you, Colonel,&rdquo; said his friend to me, whereupon I
      partook of the drink, not wishing to offend him. Decidedly he was not
      vogue. His hat was remarkable, being of a black felt with high crown and a
      wide and flopping brim. Across his waistcoat was a watch-chain of heavy
      links, with a weighty charm consisting of a sculptured gold horse in full
      gallop. That sort of thing would never do with us.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Here, George,&rdquo; he immediately called to the waiter, for they had quickly
      drained their glasses, &ldquo;tell the bartender three more. By gosh! but that&rsquo;s
      good, after the way I&rsquo;ve been held down.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Me, too,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert. &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t know how to say it in French.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The Reverend held me down,&rdquo; continued the Tuttle person. &ldquo;&lsquo;A glass of
      native wine,&rsquo; he says, &lsquo;may perhaps be taken now and then without harm.&rsquo; 
      &lsquo;Well,&rsquo; I says, &lsquo;leave us have ales, wines, liquors, and cigars,&rsquo; I says,
      but not him. I&rsquo;d get a thimbleful of elderberry wine or something about
      every second Friday, except when I&rsquo;d duck out the side door of a church
      and find some caffy. Here, George, foomer, foomer&mdash;bring us some
      seegars, and then stay on that spot&mdash;I may want you.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, well!&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert again, as if the meeting were still
      incredible.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You old stinging-lizard!&rdquo; responded the other affectionately. The cigars
      were brought and I felt constrained to light one.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The State of Washington needn&rsquo;t ever get nervous over the prospect of
      losing me,&rdquo; said the Tuttle person, biting off the end of his cigar.
    </p>
    <p>
      I gathered at once that the Americans have actually named one of our
      colonies &ldquo;Washington&rdquo; after the rebel George Washington, though one would
      have thought that the indelicacy of this would have been only too
      apparent. But, then, I recalled, as well, the city where their so-called
      parliament assembles, Washington, D. C. Doubtless the initials indicate
      that it was named in &ldquo;honour&rdquo; of another member of this notorious family.
      I could not but reflect how shocked our King would be to learn of this
      effrontery.
    </p>
    <p>
      Cousin Egbert, who had been for some moments moving his lips without
      sound, here spoke:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to try it myself,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Here, Charley, veesky-soda! He
      made me right off,&rdquo; he continued as the waiter disappeared. &ldquo;Say, Jeff, I
      bet I could have learned a lot of this language if I&rsquo;d had some one like
      you around.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, it took me some time to get the accent,&rdquo; replied the other with a
      modesty which I could detect was assumed. More acutely than ever was I
      conscious of a psychic warning to separate these two, and I resolved to
      act upon it with the utmost diplomacy. The third whiskey and soda was
      served us.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Three rousing cheers!&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Here&rsquo;s looking at you!&rdquo; said the other, and I drank. When my glass was
      drained I arose briskly and said:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I think we should be getting along now, sir, if Mr. Tuttle will be good
      enough to excuse us.&rdquo; They both stared at me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir&mdash;I fancy not, sir,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Stop your kidding, you fat rascal!&rdquo; said the other.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Old Bill means all right,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert, &ldquo;so don&rsquo;t let him irritate
      you. Bill&rsquo;s our new hired man. He&rsquo;s all right&mdash;just let him talk
      along.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Can&rsquo;t he talk setting down?&rdquo; asked the other. &ldquo;Does he have to stand up
      every time he talks? Ain&rsquo;t that a good chair?&rdquo; he demanded of me. &ldquo;Here,
      take mine,&rdquo; and to my great embarrassment he arose and offered me his
      chair in such a manner that I felt moved to accept it. Thereupon he took
      the chair I had vacated and beamed upon us, &ldquo;Now that we&rsquo;re all
      home-folks, together once more, I would suggest a bit of refreshment. Boy,
      veesky-soda!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I fancy so, sir,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert, dreamily contemplating me as the
      order was served. I was conscious even then that he seemed to be studying
      my attire with a critical eye, and indeed he remarked as if to himself:
      &ldquo;What a coat!&rdquo; I was rather shocked by this, for my suit was quite a
      decent lounge-suit that had become too snug for the Honourable George some
      two years before. Yet something warned me to ignore the comment.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Three rousing cheers!&rdquo; he said as the drink was served.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Here&rsquo;s looking at you!&rdquo; said the Tuttle person.
    </p>
    <p>
      And again I drank with them, against my better judgment, wondering if I
      might escape long enough to be put through to Mrs. Floud on the telephone.
      Too plainly the situation was rapidly getting out of hand, and yet I
      hesitated. The Tuttle person under an exterior geniality was rather
      abrupt. And, moreover, I now recalled having observed a person much like
      him in manner and attire in a certain cinema drama of the far Wild West.
      He had been a constable or sheriff in the piece and had subdued a band of
      armed border ruffians with only a small pocket pistol. I thought it as
      well not to cross him.
    </p>
    <p>
      When they had drunk, each one again said, &ldquo;Well! well!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You old maverick!&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You&mdash;dashed&mdash;old horned toad!&rdquo; responded his friend.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter with a little snack?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Not a thing on earth. My appetite ain&rsquo;t been so powerful craving since
      Heck was a pup.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      These were their actual words, though it may not be believed. The Tuttle
      person now approached his cabman, who had waited beside the curb.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Say, Frank,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;Ally restorong,&rdquo; and this he supplemented with a
      crude but informing pantomime of one eating. Cousin Egbert was already
      seated in the cab, and I could do nothing but follow. &ldquo;Ally restorong!&rdquo;
       commanded our new friend in a louder tone, and the cabman with an
      explosion of understanding drove rapidly off.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a genuine wonder to me how you learned the language so quick,&rdquo; said
      Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s all in the accent,&rdquo; protested the other. I occupied a narrow seat in
      the front. Facing me in the back seat, they lolled easily and smoked their
      cigars. Down the thronged boulevard we proceeded at a rapid pace and were
      passing presently before an immense gray edifice which I recognized as the
      so-called Louvre from its illustration on the cover of Cousin Egbert&rsquo;s art
      book. He himself regarded it with interest, though I fancy he did not
      recognize it, for, waving his cigar toward it, he announced to his friend:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The Public Library.&rdquo; His friend surveyed the building with every sign of
      approval.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;That Carnegie is a hot sport, all right,&rdquo; he declared warmly. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll bet
      that shack set him back some.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Three rousing cheers!&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert, without point that I could
      detect.
    </p>
    <p>
      We now crossed their Thames over what would have been Westminster Bridge,
      I fancy, and were presently bowling through a sort of Battersea part of
      the city. The streets grew quite narrow and the shops smaller, and I found
      myself wondering not without alarm what sort of restaurant our abrupt
      friend had chosen.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Three rousing cheers!&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert from time to time, with almost
      childish delight.
    </p>
    <p>
      Debouching from a narrow street again into what the French term a
      boulevard, we halted before what was indeed a restaurant, for several
      tables were laid on the pavement before the door, but I saw at once that
      it was anything but a nice place. &ldquo;Au Rendezvous des Cochers Fideles,&rdquo;
       read the announcement on the flap of the awning, and truly enough it was a
      low resort frequented by cabbies&mdash;&ldquo;The meeting-place of faithful
      coachmen.&rdquo; Along the curb half a score of horses were eating from their
      bags, while their drivers lounged before the place, eating, drinking, and
      conversing excitedly in their grotesque jargon.
    </p>
    <p>
      We descended, in spite of the repellent aspect of the place, and our
      driver went to the foot of the line, where he fed his own horse. Cousin
      Egbert, already at one of the open-air tables, was rapping smartly for a
      waiter.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter with having just one little one before grub?&rdquo; asked the
      Tuttle person as we joined him. He had a most curious fashion of speech. I
      mean to say, when he suggested anything whatsoever he invariably wished to
      know what might be the matter with it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Veesky-soda!&rdquo; demanded Cousin Egbert of the serving person who now
      appeared, &ldquo;and ask your driver to have one,&rdquo; he then urged his friend.
    </p>
    <p>
      The latter hereupon addressed the cabman who had now come up.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Vooley-voos take something!&rdquo; he demanded, and the cabman appeared to
      accept.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Vooley-voos your friends take something, too?&rdquo; he demanded further, with
      a gesture that embraced all the cabmen present, and these, too, appeared
      to accept with the utmost cordiality.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You&rsquo;re a wonder, Jeff,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert. &ldquo;You talk it like a
      professor.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It come natural to me,&rdquo; said the fellow, &ldquo;and it&rsquo;s a good thing, too. If
      you know a little French you can go all over Europe without a bit of
      trouble.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Inside the place was all activity, for many cabmen were now accepting the
      proffered hospitality, and calling &ldquo;votry santy!&rdquo; to their host, who
      seemed much pleased. Then to my amazement Cousin Egbert insisted that our
      cabman should sit at table with us. I trust I have as little foolish pride
      as most people, but this did seem like crowding it on a bit thick. In
      fact, it looked rather dicky. I was glad to remember that we were in what
      seemed to be the foreign quarter of the town, where it was probable that
      no one would recognize us. The drink came, though our cabman refused the
      whiskey and secured a bottle of native wine.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Three rousing cheers!&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert as we drank once more, and
      added as an afterthought, &ldquo;What a beautiful world we live in!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Vooley-voos make-um bring dinner!&rdquo; said the Tuttle person to the cabman,
      who thereupon spoke at length in his native tongue to the waiter. By this
      means we secured a soup that was not half bad and presently a stew of
      mutton which Cousin Egbert declared was &ldquo;some goo.&rdquo; To my astonishment I
      ate heartily, even in such raffish surroundings. In fact, I found myself
      pigging it with the rest of them. With coffee, cigars were brought from
      the tobacconist&rsquo;s next-door, each cabman present accepting one. Our own
      man was plainly feeling a vast pride in his party, and now circulated
      among his fellows with an account of our merits.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;This is what I call life,&rdquo; said the Tuttle person, leaning back in his
      chair.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m coming right back here every day,&rdquo; declared Cousin Egbert happily.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter with a little drive to see some well-known objects of
      interest?&rdquo; inquired his friend.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Not art galleries,&rdquo; insisted Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And not churches,&rdquo; said his friend. &ldquo;Every day&rsquo;s been Sunday with me long
      enough.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And not clothing stores,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert firmly. &ldquo;The Colonel here is
      awful fussy about my clothes,&rdquo; he added.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Is, heh?&rdquo; inquired his friend. &ldquo;How do you like this hat of mine?&rdquo; he
      asked, turning to me. It was that sudden I nearly fluffed the catch, but
      recovered myself in time.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I should consider it a hat of sound wearing properties, sir,&rdquo; I said.
    </p>
    <p>
      He took it off, examined it carefully, and replaced it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;So far, so good,&rdquo; he said gravely. &ldquo;But why be fussy about clothes when
      God has given you only one life to live?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t argue about religion,&rdquo; warned Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I always like to see people well dressed, sir,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;because it makes
      such a difference in their appearance.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      He slapped his thigh fiercely. &ldquo;My gosh! that&rsquo;s true. He&rsquo;s got you there,
      Sour-dough. I never thought of that.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He makes me wear these chest-protectors on my ankles,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert
      bitterly, extending one foot.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter of taking a little drive to see some well-known objects
      of interest?&rdquo; said his friend.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Not art galleries,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert firmly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;We said that before&mdash;and not churches.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And not gents&rsquo; furnishing goods.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You said that before.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, you said not churches before.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, what&rsquo;s the matter with taking a little drive?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Not art galleries,&rdquo; insisted Cousin Egbert. The thing seemed
      interminable. I mean to say, they went about the circle as before. It
      looked to me as if they were having a bit of a spree.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have one last drink,&rdquo; said the Tuttle person.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert firmly, &ldquo;not another drop. Don&rsquo;t you see the
      condition poor Bill here is in?&rdquo; To my amazement he was referring to me.
      Candidly, he was attempting to convey the impression that I had taken a
      drop too much. The other regarded me intently.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Pickled,&rdquo; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Always affects him that way,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s got no head for
      it.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Beg pardon, sir,&rdquo; I said, wishing to explain, but this I was not let to
      do.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t start anything like that here,&rdquo; broke in the Tuttle person, &ldquo;the
      police wouldn&rsquo;t stand for it. Just keep quiet and remember you&rsquo;re among
      friends.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir; quite so, sir,&rdquo; said I, being somewhat puzzled by these strange
      words. &ldquo;I was merely&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Look out, Jeff,&rdquo; warned Cousin Egbert, interrupting me; &ldquo;he&rsquo;s a devil
      when he starts.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Have you got a knife?&rdquo; demanded the other suddenly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I fancy so, sir,&rdquo; I answered, and produced from my waistcoat pocket the
      small metal-handled affair I have long carried. This he quickly seized
      from me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You can keep your gun,&rdquo; he remarked, &ldquo;but you can&rsquo;t be trusted with this
      in your condition. I ain&rsquo;t afraid of a gun, but I am afraid of a knife.
      You could have backed me off the board any time with this knife.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t I tell you?&rdquo; asked Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Beg pardon, sir,&rdquo; I began, for this was drawing it quite too thick, but
      again he interrupted me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;We&rsquo;d better get him away from this place right off,&rdquo; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A drive in the fresh air might fix him,&rdquo; suggested Cousin Egbert. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s
      as good a scout as you want to know when he&rsquo;s himself.&rdquo; Hereupon, calling
      our waiting cabman, they both, to my embarrassment, assisted me to the
      vehicle.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ally caffy!&rdquo; directed the Tuttle person, and we were driven off, to the
      raised hats of the remaining cabmen, through many long, quiet streets.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t have had this happen for anything,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert,
      indicating me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Lucky I got that knife away from him,&rdquo; said the other.
    </p>
    <p>
      To this I thought it best to remain silent, it being plain that the men
      were both well along, so to say.
    </p>
    <p>
      The cab now approached an open square from which issued discordant blasts
      of music. One glance showed it to be a street fair. I prayed that we might
      pass it, but my companions hailed it with delight and at once halted the
      cabby.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ally caffy on the corner,&rdquo; directed the Tuttle person, and once more we
      were seated at an iron table with whiskey and soda ordered. Before us was
      the street fair in all its silly activity. There were many tinselled
      booths at which games of chance or marksmanship were played, or at which
      articles of ornament or household decoration were displayed for sale, and
      about these were throngs of low-class French idling away their afternoon
      in that mad pursuit of pleasure which is so characteristic of this race.
      In the centre of the place was a carrousel from which came the blare of a
      steam orchestrion playing the &ldquo;Marseillaise,&rdquo; one of their popular songs.
      From where I sat I could perceive the circle of gaudily painted beasts
      that revolved about this musical atrocity. A fashion of horses seemed to
      predominate, but there was also an ostrich (a bearded Frenchman being
      astride this bird for the moment), a zebra, a lion, and a gaudily
      emblazoned giraffe. I shuddered as I thought of the evil possibilities
      that might be suggested to my two companions by this affair. For the
      moment I was pleased to note that they had forgotten my supposed
      indisposition, yet another equally absurd complication ensued when the
      drink arrived.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Say, don&rsquo;t your friend ever loosen up?&rdquo; asked the Tuttle person of Cousin
      Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Tighter than Dick&rsquo;s hatband,&rdquo; replied the latter.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And then some! He ain&rsquo;t bought once. Say, Bo,&rdquo; he continued to me as I
      was striving to divine the drift of these comments, &ldquo;have I got my fingers
      crossed or not?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Seeing that he held one hand behind him I thought to humour him by saying,
      &ldquo;I fancy so, sir.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He means &lsquo;yes,&rsquo;&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      The other held his hand before me with the first two fingers spread wide
      apart. &ldquo;You lost,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;How&rsquo;s that, Sour-dough? We stuck him the
      first rattle out of the box.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Good work,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re stuck for this round,&rdquo; he added
      to me. &ldquo;Three rousing cheers!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I readily perceived that they meant me to pay the score, which I
      accordingly did, though I at once suspected the fairness of the game. I
      mean to say, if my opponent had been a trickster he could easily have
      rearranged his fingers to defeat me before displaying them. I do not say
      it was done in this instance. I am merely pointing out that it left open a
      way to trickery. I mean to say, one would wish to be assured of his
      opponent&rsquo;s social standing before playing this game extensively.
    </p>
    <p>
      No sooner had we finished the drink than the Tuttle person said to me:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll give you one chance to get even. I&rsquo;ll guess your fingers this time.&rdquo;
       Accordingly I put one hand behind me and firmly crossed the fingers,
      fancying that he would guess them to be uncrossed. Instead of which he
      called out &ldquo;Crossed,&rdquo; and I was obliged to show them in that wise, though,
      as before pointed out, I could easily have defeated him by uncrossing them
      before revealing my hand. I mean to say, it is not on the face of it a
      game one would care to play with casual acquaintances, and I questioned
      even then in my own mind its prevalence in the States. (As a matter of
      fact, I may say that in my later life in the States I could find no trace
      of it, and now believe it to have been a pure invention on the part of the
      Tuttle person. I mean to say, I later became convinced that it was,
      properly speaking, not a game at all.)
    </p>
    <p>
      Again they were hugely delighted at my loss and rapped smartly on the
      table for more drink, and now to my embarrassment I discovered that I
      lacked the money to pay for this &ldquo;round&rdquo; as they would call it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Beg pardon, sir,&rdquo; said I discreetly to Cousin Egbert, &ldquo;but if you could
      let me have a bit of change, a half-crown or so&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; To my
      surprise he regarded me coldly and shook his head emphatically in the
      negative.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Not me,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been had too often. You&rsquo;re a good smooth talker
      and you may be all right, but I can&rsquo;t take a chance at my time of life.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s he want now?&rdquo; asked the other.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The old story,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert: &ldquo;come off and left his purse on the
      hatrack or out in the woodshed some place.&rdquo; This was the height of
      absurdity, for I had said nothing of the sort.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I was looking for something like that,&rdquo; said the other &ldquo;I never make a
      mistake in faces. You got a watch there haven&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; I said, and laid on the table my silver English half-hunter
      with Albert. They both fell to examining this with interest, and presently
      the Tuttle person spoke up excitedly:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, darn my skin if he ain&rsquo;t got a genuine double Gazottz. How did you
      come by this, my man?&rdquo; he demanded sharply.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It came from my brother-in-law, sir,&rdquo; I explained, &ldquo;six years ago as
      security for a trifling loan.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He sounds honest enough,&rdquo; said the Tuttle person to Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, but maybe it ain&rsquo;t a regular double Gazottz,&rdquo; said the latter. &ldquo;The
      market is flooded with imitations.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No, sir, I can&rsquo;t be fooled on them boys,&rdquo; insisted the other. &ldquo;Blindfold
      me and I could pick a double Gazottz out every time. I&rsquo;m going to take a
      chance on it, anyway.&rdquo; Whereupon the fellow pocketed my watch and from his
      wallet passed me a note of the so-called French money which I was
      astounded to observe was for the equivalent of four pounds, or one hundred
      francs, as the French will have it. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll advance that much on it,&rdquo; he
      said, &ldquo;but don&rsquo;t ask for another cent until I&rsquo;ve had it thoroughly gone
      over by a plumber. It may have moths in it.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      It seemed to me that the chap was quite off his head, for the watch was
      worth not more than ten shillings at the most, though what a double
      Gazottz might be I could not guess. However, I saw it would be wise to
      appear to accept the loan, and tendered the note in payment of the score.
    </p>
    <p>
      When I had secured the change I sought to intimate that we should be
      leaving. I thought even the street fair would be better for us than this
      rapid consumption of stimulants.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I bet he&rsquo;d go without buying,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No, he wouldn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;He knows what&rsquo;s customary in a case
      like this. He&rsquo;s just a little embarrassed. Wait and see if I ain&rsquo;t right.&rdquo;
       At which they both sat and stared at me in silence for some moments until
      at last I ordered more drink, as I saw was expected of me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He wants the cabman to have one with him,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert, whereat
      the other not only beckoned our cabby to join us, but called to two
      labourers who were passing, and also induced the waiter who served us to
      join in the &ldquo;round.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He seems to have a lot of tough friends,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert as we all
      drank, though he well knew I had extended none of these invitations.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Acts like a drunken sailor soon as he gets a little money,&rdquo; said the
      other.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Three rousing cheers!&rdquo; replied Cousin Egbert, and to my great chagrin he
      leaped to his feet, seized one of the navvies about the waist, and there
      on the public pavement did a crude dance with him to the strain of the
      &ldquo;Marseillaise&rdquo; from the steam orchestrion. Not only this, but when the
      music had ceased he traded hats with the navvy, securing a most shocking
      affair in place of the new one, and as they parted he presented the fellow
      with the gloves and stick I had purchased for him that very morning. As I
      stared aghast at this <i>faux pas</i> the navvy, with his new hat at an
      angle and twirling the stick, proceeded down the street with mincing steps
      and exaggerated airs of gentility, to the applause of the entire crowd,
      including Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;This ain&rsquo;t quite the hat I want,&rdquo; he said as he returned to us, &ldquo;but the
      day is young. I&rsquo;ll have other chances,&rdquo; and with the help of the
      public-house window as a mirror he adjusted the unmentionable thing with
      affectations of great nicety.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He always was a dressy old scoundrel,&rdquo; remarked the Tuttle person. And
      then, as the music came to us once more, he continued: &ldquo;Say, Sour-dough,
      let&rsquo;s go over to the rodeo&mdash;they got some likely looking broncs over
      there.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Arm in arm, accordingly, they crossed the street and proceeded to the
      carrousel, first warning the cabby and myself to stay by them lest harm
      should come to us. What now ensued was perhaps their most remarkable
      behaviour at the day. At the time I could account for it only by the
      liquor they had consumed, but later experience in the States convinced me
      that they were at times consciously spoofing. I mean to say, it was quite
      too absurd&mdash;their seriously believing what they seemed to believe.
    </p>
    <p>
      The carrousel being at rest when we approached, they gravely examined each
      one of the painted wooden effigies, looking into such of the mouths as
      were open, and cautiously feeling the forelegs of the different mounts,
      keeping up an elaborate pretence the while that the beasts were real and
      that they were in danger of being kicked. One absurdly painted horse they
      agreed would be the most difficult to ride. Examining his mouth, they
      disputed as to his age, and called the cabby to have his opinion of the
      thing&rsquo;s fetlocks, warning each other to beware of his rearing. The cabby,
      who was doubtless also intoxicated, made an equal pretence of the beast&rsquo;s
      realness, and indulged, I gathered, in various criticisms of its legs at
      great length.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I think he&rsquo;s right,&rdquo; remarked the Tuttle person when the cabby had
      finished. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a bad case of splints. The leg would be blistered if I had
      him.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t give him corral room,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s a bad actor.
      Look at his eye! Whoa! there&mdash;you would, would you!&rdquo; Here he made a
      pretence that the beast had seized him by the shoulder. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s a man-eater!
      What did I tell you? Keep him away!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take that out of him,&rdquo; said the Tuttle person. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll show him who&rsquo;s
      his master.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You ain&rsquo;t never going to try to ride him, Jeff? Think of the wife and
      little ones!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You know me, Sour-dough. No horse never stepped out from under me yet.
      I&rsquo;ll not only ride him, but I&rsquo;ll put a silver dollar in each stirrup and
      give you a thousand for each one I lose and a thousand for every time I
      touch leather.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Cousin Egbert here began to plead tearfully:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t do it, Jeff&mdash;come on around here. There&rsquo;s a big five-year-old
      roan around here that will be safe as a church for you. Let that pinto
      alone. They ought to be arrested for having him here.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      But the other seemed obdurate.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Start her up, Professor, when I give the word!&rdquo; he called to the
      proprietor, and handed him one of the French banknotes. &ldquo;Play it all out!&rdquo;
       he directed, as this person gasped with amazement.
    </p>
    <p>
      Cousin Egbert then proceeded to the head of the beast.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll have to blind him,&rdquo; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Sure!&rdquo; replied the other, and with loud and profane cries to the animal
      they bound a handkerchief about his eyes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I can tell he&rsquo;s going to be a twister,&rdquo; warned Cousin Egbert. &ldquo;I better
      ear him,&rdquo; and to my increased amazement he took one of the beast&rsquo;s leather
      ears between his teeth and held it tightly. Then with soothing words to
      the supposedly dangerous animal, the Tuttle person mounted him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Let him go!&rdquo; he called to Cousin Egbert, who released the ear from
      between his teeth.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Wait!&rdquo; called the latter. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re all going with you,&rdquo; whereupon he
      insisted that the cabby and I should enter a sort of swan-boat directly in
      the rear. I felt a silly fool, but I saw there was nothing else to be
      done. Cousin Egbert himself mounted a horse he had called a &ldquo;blue roan,&rdquo;
       waved his hand to the proprietor, who switched a lever, the &ldquo;Marseillaise&rdquo;
       blared forth, and the platform began to revolve. As we moved, the Tuttle
      person whisked the handkerchief from off the eyes of his mount and with
      loud, shrill cries began to beat the sides of its head with his soft hat,
      bobbing about in his saddle, moreover, as if the beast were most unruly
      and like to dismount him. Cousin Egbert joined in the yelling, I am sorry
      to say, and lashed his beast as if he would overtake his companion. The
      cabman also became excited and shouted his utmost, apparently in the way
      of encouragement. Strange to say, I presume on account of the motion, I
      felt the thing was becoming infectious and was absurdly moved to join in
      the shouts, restraining myself with difficulty. I could distinctly imagine
      we were in the hunting field and riding the tails off the hounds, as one
      might say.
    </p>
    <p>
      In view of what was later most unjustly alleged of me, I think it as well
      to record now that, though I had partaken freely of the stimulants since
      our meeting with the Tuttle person, I was not intoxicated, nor until this
      moment had I felt even the slightest elation. Now, however, I did begin to
      feel conscious of a mild exhilaration, and to be aware that I was viewing
      the behaviour of my companions with a sort of superior but amused
      tolerance. I can account for this only by supposing that the swift
      revolutions of the carrousel had in some occult manner intensified or
      consummated, as one might say, the effect of my previous potations. I mean
      to say, the continued swirling about gave me a frothy feeling that was not
      unpleasant.
    </p>
    <p>
      As the contrivance came to rest, Cousin Egbert ran to the Tuttle person,
      who had dismounted, and warmly shook his hand, as did the cabby.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I certainly thought he had you there once, Jeff,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert. &ldquo;Of
      all the twisters I ever saw, that outlaw is the worst.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Wanted to roll me,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;but I learned him something.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      It may not be credited, but at this moment I found myself examining the
      beast and saying: &ldquo;He&rsquo;s crocked himself up, sir&mdash;he&rsquo;s gone tender at
      the heel.&rdquo; I knew perfectly, it must be understood, that this was silly,
      and yet I further added, &ldquo;I fancy he&rsquo;s picked up a stone.&rdquo; I mean to say,
      it was the most utter rot, pretending seriously that way.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You come away,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert. &ldquo;Next thing you&rsquo;ll be thinking you
      can ride him yourself.&rdquo; I did in truth experience an earnest craving for
      more of the revolutions and said as much, adding that I rode at twelve
      stone.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Let him break his neck if he wants to,&rdquo; urged the Tuttle person.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It wouldn&rsquo;t be right,&rdquo; replied Cousin Egbert, &ldquo;not in his condition.
      Let&rsquo;s see if we can&rsquo;t find something gentle for him. Not the roan&mdash;I
      found she ain&rsquo;t bridle-wise. How about that pheasant?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s an ostrich, sir,&rdquo; I corrected him, as indeed it most distinctly was,
      though at my words they both indulged in loud laughter, affecting to
      consider that I had misnamed the creature.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ostrich!&rdquo; they shouted. &ldquo;Poor old Bill&mdash;he thinks it&rsquo;s an ostrich!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Quite so, sir,&rdquo; I said, pleasantly but firmly, determining not to be
      hoaxed again.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t drivel that way,&rdquo; said the Tuttle person.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Leave it to the driver, Jeff&mdash;maybe he&rsquo;ll believe <i>him</i>,&rdquo; said
      Cousin Egbert almost sadly, whereupon the other addressed the cabby:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Hey, Frank,&rdquo; he began, and continued with some French words, among which
      I caught &ldquo;vooley-vous, ally caffy, foomer&rdquo;; and something that sounded
      much like &ldquo;kafoozleum,&rdquo; at which the cabby spoke at some length in his
      native language concerning the ostrich. When he had done, the Tuttle
      person turned to me with a superior frown.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Now I guess you&rsquo;re satisfied,&rdquo; he remarked. &ldquo;You heard what Frank said&mdash;it&rsquo;s
      an Arabian muffin bird.&rdquo; Of course I was perfectly certain that the chap
      had said nothing of the sort, but I resolved to enter into the spirit of
      the thing, so I merely said: &ldquo;Yes, sir; my error; it was only at first
      glance that it seemed to be an ostrich.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Come along,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert. &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t let him ride anything he can&rsquo;t
      guess the name of. It wouldn&rsquo;t be right to his folks.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, what&rsquo;s that, then?&rdquo; demanded the other, pointing full at the
      giraffe.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a bally ant-eater, sir,&rdquo; I replied, divining that I should be wise
      not to seem too obvious in naming the beast.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, well, so it is!&rdquo; exclaimed the Tuttle person delightedly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s got the eye with him this time,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert admiringly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s sure a wonder,&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;That thing had me fooled; I thought
      at first it was a Russian mouse hound.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, let him ride it, then,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert, and I was practically
      lifted into the saddle by the pair of them.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;One moment,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert. &ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you see the poor thing has a sore
      throat? Wait till I fix him.&rdquo; And forthwith he removed his spats and in
      another moment had buckled them securely high about the throat of the
      giraffe. It will be seen that I was not myself when I say that this
      performance did not shock me as it should have done, though I was, of
      course, less entertained by it than were the remainder of our party and a
      circle of the French lower classes that had formed about us.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Give him his head! Let&rsquo;s see what time you can make!&rdquo; shouted Cousin
      Egbert as the affair began once more to revolve. I saw that both my
      companions held opened watches in their hands.
    </p>
    <p>
      It here becomes difficult for me to be lucid about the succeeding events
      of the day. I was conscious of a mounting exhilaration as my beast swept
      me around the circle, and of a marked impatience with many of the
      proprieties of behaviour that ordinarily with me matter enormously. I
      swung my cap and joyously urged my strange steed to a faster pace, being
      conscious of loud applause each time I passed my companions. For certain
      lapses of memory thereafter I must wholly blame this insidious motion.
    </p>
    <p>
      For example, though I believed myself to be still mounted and whirling
      (indeed I was strongly aware of the motion), I found myself seated again
      at the corner public house and rapping smartly for drink, which I paid
      for. I was feeling remarkably fit, and suffered only a mild wonder that I
      should have left the carrousel without observing it. Having drained my
      glass, I then remember asking Cousin Egbert if he would consent to change
      hats with the cabby, which he willingly did. It was a top-hat of some
      strange, hard material brightly glazed. Although many unjust things were
      said of me later, this is the sole incident of the day which causes me to
      admit that I might have taken a glass too much, especially as I
      undoubtedly praised Cousin Egbert&rsquo;s appearance when the exchange had been
      made, and was heard to wish that we might all have hats so smart.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was directly after this that young Mr. Elmer, the art student, invited
      us to his studio, though I had not before remarked his presence, and
      cannot recall now where we met him. The occurrence in the studio, however,
      was entirely natural. I wished to please my friends and made no demur
      whatever when asked to don the things&mdash;a trouserish affair, of
      sheep&rsquo;s wool, which they called &ldquo;chapps,&rdquo; a flannel shirt of blue (they
      knotted a scarlet handkerchief around my neck), and a wide-brimmed white
      hat with four indentations in the crown, such as one may see worn in the
      cinema dramas by cow-persons and other western-coast desperadoes. When
      they had strapped around my waist a large pistol in a leather jacket, I
      considered the effect picturesque in the extreme, and my friends were loud
      in their approval of it.
    </p>
    <p>
      I repeat, it was an occasion when it would have been boorish in me to
      refuse to meet them halfway. I even told them an excellent wheeze I had
      long known, which I thought they might not, have heard. It runs: &ldquo;Why is
      Charing Cross? Because the Strand runs into it.&rdquo; I mean to say, this is
      comic providing one enters wholly into the spirit of it, as there is
      required a certain nimbleness of mind to get the point, as one might say.
      In the present instance some needed element was lacking, for they actually
      drew aloof from me and conversed in low tones among themselves, pointedly
      ignoring me. I repeated the thing to make sure they should see it, whereat
      I heard Cousin Egbert say. &ldquo;Better not irritate him&mdash;he&rsquo;ll get mad if
      we don&rsquo;t laugh,&rdquo; after which they burst into laughter so extravagant that
      I knew it to be feigned. Hereupon, feeling quite drowsy, I resolved to
      have forty winks, and with due apologies reclined upon the couch, where I
      drifted into a refreshing slumber.
    </p>
    <p>
      Later I inferred that I must have slept for some hours. I was awakened by
      a light flashed in my eyes, and beheld Cousin Egbert and the Tuttle
      person, the latter wishing to know how late I expected to keep them up. I
      was on my feet at once with apologies, but they instantly hustled me to
      the door, down a flight of steps, through a court-yard, and into the
      waiting cab. It was then I noticed that I was wearing the curious hat of
      the American Far-West, but when I would have gone back to leave it, and
      secure my own, they protested vehemently, wishing to know if I had not
      given them trouble enough that day.
    </p>
    <p>
      In the cab I was still somewhat drowsy, but gathered that my companions
      had left me, to dine and attend a public dance-hall with the cubbish art
      student. They had not seemed to need sleep and were still wakeful, for
      they sang from time to time, and Cousin Egbert lifted the cabby&rsquo;s hat,
      which he still wore, bowing to imaginary throngs along the street who were
      supposed to be applauding him. I at once became conscience-stricken at the
      thought of Mrs. Effie&rsquo;s feelings when she should discover him to be in
      this state, and was on the point of suggesting that he seek another
      apartment for the night, when the cab pulled up in front of our own hotel.
    </p>
    <p>
      Though I protest that I was now entirely recovered from any effect that
      the alcohol might have had upon me, it was not until this moment that I
      most horribly discovered myself to be in the full cow-person&rsquo;s regalia I
      had donned in the studio in a spirit of pure frolic. I mean to say, I had
      never intended to wear the things beyond the door and could not have been
      hired to do so. What was my amazement then to find my companions
      laboriously lifting me from the cab in this impossible tenue. I objected
      vehemently, but little good it did me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Get a policeman if he starts any of that rough stuff,&rdquo; said the Tuttle
      person, and in sheer horror of a scandal I subsided, while one on either
      side they hustled me through the hotel lounge&mdash;happily vacant of
      every one but a tariff manager&mdash;and into the lift. And now I
      perceived that they were once more pretending to themselves that I was in
      a bad way from drink, though I could not at once suspect the full iniquity
      of their design.
    </p>
    <p>
      As we reached our own floor, one of them still seeming to support me on
      either side, they began loud and excited admonitions to me to be still, to
      come along as quickly as possible, to stop singing, and not to shoot. I
      mean to say, I was entirely quiet, I was coming along as quickly as they
      would let me, I had not sung, and did not wish to shoot, yet they
      persisted in making this loud ado over my supposed intoxication, aimlessly
      as I thought, until the door of the Floud drawing-room opened and Mrs.
      Effie appeared in the hallway. At this they redoubled their absurd
      violence with me, and by dint of tripping me they actually made it appear
      that I was scarce able to walk, nor do I imagine that the costume I wore
      was any testimonial to my sobriety.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Now we got him safe,&rdquo; panted Cousin Egbert, pushing open the door of my
      room.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Get his gun, first!&rdquo; warned the Tuttle person, and this being taken from
      me, I was unceremoniously shoved inside.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What does all this mean?&rdquo; demanded Mrs. Effie, coming rapidly down the
      hall. &ldquo;Where have you been till this time of night? I bet it&rsquo;s your fault,
      Jeff Tuttle&mdash;you&rsquo;ve been getting him going.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      They were both voluble with denials of this, and though I could scarce
      believe my ears, they proceeded to tell a story that laid the blame
      entirely on me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No, ma&rsquo;am, Mis&rsquo; Effie,&rdquo; began the Tuttle person. &ldquo;It ain&rsquo;t that way at
      all. You wrong me if ever a man was wronged.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You just seen what state he was in, didn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; asked Cousin Egbert in
      tones of deep injury. &ldquo;Do you want to take another look at him?&rdquo; and he
      made as if to push the door farther open upon me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t do it&mdash;don&rsquo;t get him started again!&rdquo; warned the Tuttle person.
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve had trouble enough with that man to-day.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I seen it coming this morning,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert, &ldquo;when we was at the
      art gallery. He had a kind of wild look in his eyes, and I says right
      then: &lsquo;There&rsquo;s a man ought to be watched,&rsquo; and, well, one thing led to
      another&mdash;look at this hat he made me wear&mdash;nothing would satisfy
      him but I should trade hats with some cab-driver&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I was coming along from looking at two or three good churches,&rdquo; broke in
      the Tuttle person, &ldquo;when I seen Sour-dough here having a kind of a mix-up
      with this man because of him insisting he must ride a kangaroo or
      something on a merry-go-round, and wanting Sour-dough to ride an ostrich
      with him, and then when we got him quieted down a little, nothing would do
      him but he&rsquo;s got to be a cowboy&mdash;you seen his clothes, didn&rsquo;t you?
      And of course I wanted to get back to Addie and the girls, but I seen
      Sour-dough here was in trouble, so I stayed right by him, and between us
      we got the maniac here.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s one of them should never touch liquor,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert; &ldquo;it
      makes a demon of him.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I got his knife away from him early in the game,&rdquo; said the other.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t suppose I got to wear this cabman&rsquo;s hat just because he told me
      to, have I?&rdquo; demanded Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And here I&rsquo;d been looking forward to a quiet day seeing some well-known
      objects of interest,&rdquo; came from the other, &ldquo;after I got my tooth pulled,
      that is.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And me with a tooth, too, that nearly drove me out of my mind,&rdquo; said
      Cousin Egbert suddenly.
    </p>
    <p>
      I could not see Mrs. Effie, but she had evidently listened to this
      outrageous tale with more or less belief, though not wholly credulous.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You men have both been drinking yourselves,&rdquo; she said shrewdly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;We had to take a little; he made us,&rdquo; declared the Tuttle person
      brazenly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He got so he insisted on our taking something every time he did,&rdquo; added
      Cousin Egbert. &ldquo;And, anyway, I didn&rsquo;t care so much, with this tooth of
      mine aching like it does.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You come right out with me and around to that dentist I went to this
      morning,&rdquo; said the Tuttle person. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll suffer all night if you don&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Maybe I&rsquo;d better,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert, &ldquo;though I hate to leave this
      comfortable hotel and go out into the night air again.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have the right of this in the morning,&rdquo; said Mrs. Effie. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t
      think it&rsquo;s going to stop here!&rdquo; At this my door was pulled to and the key
      turned in the lock.
    </p>
    <p>
      Frankly I am aware that what I have put down above is incredible, yet not
      a single detail have I distorted. With a quite devilish ingenuity they had
      fastened upon some true bits: I had suggested the change of hats with the
      cabby, I had wished to ride the giraffe, and the Tuttle person had secured
      my knife, but how monstrously untrue of me was the impression conveyed by
      these isolated facts. I could believe now quite all the tales I had ever
      heard of the queerness of Americans. Queerness, indeed! I went to bed
      resolving to let the morrow take care of itself.
    </p>
    <p>
      Again I was awakened by a light flashing in my eyes, and became aware that
      Cousin Egbert stood in the middle of the room. He was reading from his
      notebook of art criticisms, with something of an oratorical effect.
      Through the half-drawn curtains I could see that dawn was breaking. Cousin
      Egbert was no longer wearing the cabby&rsquo;s hat. It was now the flat cap of
      the Paris constable or policeman.
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER FOUR
    </h2>
    <p>
      The sight was a fair crumpler after the outrageous slander that had been
      put upon me by this elderly inebriate and his accomplice. I sat up at
      once, prepared to bully him down a bit. Although I was not sure that I
      engaged his attention, I told him that his reading could be very well done
      without and that he might take himself off. At this he became silent and
      regarded me solemnly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Why did Charing Cross the Strand? Because three rousing cheers,&rdquo; said he.
    </p>
    <p>
      Of course he had the wheeze all wrong and I saw that he should be in bed.
      So with gentle words I lured him to his own chamber. Here, with a quite
      unexpected perversity, he accused me of having kept him up the night long
      and begged now to be allowed to retire. This he did with muttered
      complaints of my behaviour, and was almost instantly asleep. I concealed
      the constable&rsquo;s cap in one of his boxes, for I feared that he had not come
      by this honestly. I then returned to my own room, where for a long time I
      meditated profoundly upon the situation that now confronted me.
    </p>
    <p>
      It seemed probable that I should be shopped by Mrs. Effie for what she had
      been led to believe was my rowdyish behaviour. However dastardly the
      injustice to me, it was a solution of the problem that I saw I could bring
      myself to meet with considerable philosophy. It meant a return to the
      quiet service of the Honourable George and that I need no longer face the
      distressing vicissitudes of life in the back blocks of unexplored America.
      I would not be obliged to muddle along in the blind fashion of the last
      two days, feeling a frightful fool. Mrs. Effie would surely not keep me
      on, and that was all about it. I had merely to make no defence of myself.
      And even if I chose to make one I was not certain that she would believe
      me, so cunning had been the accusations against me, with that tiny thread
      of fact which I make no doubt has so often enabled historians to give a
      false colouring to their recitals without stating downright untruths.
      Indeed, my shameless appearance in the garb of a cow person would alone
      have cast doubt upon the truth as I knew it to be.
    </p>
    <p>
      Then suddenly I suffered an illumination. I perceived all at once that to
      make any sort of defence of myself would not be cricket. I mean to say, I
      saw the proceedings of the previous day in a new light. It is well known
      that I do not hold with the abuse of alcoholic stimulants, and yet on the
      day before, in moments that I now confess to have been slightly elevated,
      I had been conscious of a certain feeling of fellowship with my two
      companions that was rather wonderful. Though obviously they were not
      university men, they seemed to belong to what in America would be called
      the landed gentry, and yet I had felt myself on terms of undoubted
      equality with them. It may be believed or not, but there had been brief
      spaces when I forgot that I was a gentleman&rsquo;s man. Astoundingly I had
      experienced the confident ease of a gentleman among his equals. I was
      obliged to admit now that this might have been a mere delusion of the cup,
      and yet I wondered, too, if perchance I might not have caught something of
      that American spirit of equality which is said to be peculiar to
      republics. Needless to say I had never believed in the existence of this
      spirit, but had considered it rather a ghastly jest, having been a reader
      of our own periodical press since earliest youth. I mean to say, there
      could hardly be a stable society in which one had no superiors, because in
      that case one would not know who were one&rsquo;s inferiors. Nevertheless, I
      repeat that I had felt a most novel enlargement of myself; had, in fact,
      felt that I was a gentleman among gentlemen, using the word in its
      strictly technical sense. And so vividly did this conviction remain with
      me that I now saw any defence of my course to be out of the question.
    </p>
    <p>
      I perceived that my companions had meant to have me on toast from the
      first. I mean to say, they had started a rag with me&mdash;a bit of chaff&mdash;and
      I now found myself rather preposterously enjoying the manner in which they
      had chivied me. I mean to say, I felt myself taking it as one gentleman
      would take a rag from other gentlemen&mdash;not as a bit of a sneak who
      would tell the truth to save his face. A couple of chaffing old beggars
      they were, but they had found me a topping dead sportsman of their own
      sort. Be it remembered I was still uncertain whether I had caught
      something of that alleged American spirit, or whether the drink had made
      me feel equal at least to Americans. Whatever it might be, it was rather
      great, and I was prepared to face Mrs. Effie without a tremor&mdash;to
      face her, of course, as one overtaken by a weakness for spirits.
    </p>
    <p>
      When the bell at last rang I donned my service coat and, assuming a look
      of profound remorse, I went to the drawing-room to serve the morning
      coffee. As I suspected, only Mrs. Effie was present. I believe it has been
      before remarked that she is a person of commanding presence, with a manner
      of marked determination. She favoured me with a brief but chilling glance,
      and for some moments thereafter affected quite to ignore me. Obviously she
      had been completely greened the night before and was treating me with a
      proper contempt. I saw that it was no use grousing at fate and that it was
      better for me not to go into the American wilderness, since a rolling
      stone gathers no moss. I was prepared to accept instant dismissal without
      a character.
    </p>
    <p>
      She began upon me, however, after her first cup of coffee, more mildly
      than I had expected.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ruggles, I&rsquo;m horribly disappointed in you.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Not more so than I myself, Madam,&rdquo; I replied.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I am more disappointed,&rdquo; she continued, &ldquo;because I felt that Cousin
      Egbert had something in him&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Something in him, yes, Madam,&rdquo; I murmured sympathetically.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And that you were the man to bring it out. I was quite hopeful after you
      got him into those new clothes. I don&rsquo;t believe any one else could have
      done it. And now it turns out that you have this weakness for drink. Not
      only that, but you have a mania for insisting that other men drink with
      you. Think of those two poor fellows trailing you over Paris yesterday
      trying to save you from yourself.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I shall never forget it, Madam,&rdquo; I said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Of course I don&rsquo;t believe that Jeff Tuttle always has to have it forced
      on him. Jeff Tuttle is an Indian. But Cousin Egbert is different. You tore
      him away from that art gallery where he was improving his mind, and led
      him into places that must have been disgusting to him. All he wanted was
      to study the world&rsquo;s masterpieces in canvas and marble, yet you put a
      cabman&rsquo;s hat on him and made him ride an antelope, or whatever the thing
      was. I can&rsquo;t think where you got such ideas.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I was not myself. I can only say that I seemed to be subject to an
      attack.&rdquo; And the Tuttle person was one of their Indians! This explained so
      much about him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t look like a periodical souse,&rdquo; she remarked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Quite so, Madam.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But you must be a wonder when you do start. The point is: am I doing
      right to intrust Cousin Egbert to you again?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Quite so, Madam.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It seems doubtful if you are the person to develop his higher nature.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Against my better judgment I here felt obliged to protest that I had
      always been given the highest character for quietness and general
      behaviour and that I could safely promise that I should be guilty of no
      further lapses of this kind. Frankly, I was wishing to be shopped, and yet
      I could not resist making this mild defence of myself. Such I have found
      to be the way of human nature. To my surprise I found that Mrs. Effie was
      more than half persuaded by these words and was on the point of giving me
      another trial. I cannot say that I was delighted at this. I was ready to
      give up all Americans as problems one too many for me, and yet I was
      strangely a little warmed at thinking I might not have seen the last of
      Cousin Egbert, whom I had just given a tuckup.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You shall have your chance,&rdquo; she said at last, &ldquo;and just to show you that
      I&rsquo;m not narrow, you can go over to the sideboard there and pour yourself
      out a little one. It ought to be a lifesaver to you, feeling the way you
      must this morning.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Thank you, Madam,&rdquo; and I did as she suggested. I was feeling especially
      fit, but I knew that I ought to play in character, as one might say.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Three rousing cheers!&rdquo; I said, having gathered the previous day that this
      was a popular American toast. She stared at me rather oddly, but made no
      comment other than to announce her departure on a shopping tour. Her
      bonnet, I noted, was quite wrong. Too extremely modish it was, accenting
      its own lines at the expense of a face to which less attention should have
      been called. This is a mistake common to the sex, however. They little
      dream how sadly they mock and betray their own faces. Nothing I think is
      more pathetic than their trustful unconsciousness of the tragedy&mdash;the
      rather plainish face under the contemptuous structure that points to it
      and shrieks derision. The rather plain woman who knows what to put upon
      her head is a woman of genius. I have seen three, perhaps.
    </p>
    <p>
      I now went to the room of Cousin Egbert. I found him awake and cheerful,
      but disinclined to arise. It was hard for me to realize that his simple,
      kindly face could mask the guile he had displayed the night before. He
      showed no sign of regret for the false light in which he had placed me.
      Indeed he was sitting up in bed as cheerful and independent as if he had
      paid two-pence for a park chair.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I fancy,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;that we ought to spend a peaceful day indoors. The
      trouble with these foreign parts is that they don&rsquo;t have enough home life.
      If it isn&rsquo;t one thing it&rsquo;s another.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Sometimes it&rsquo;s both, sir,&rdquo; I said, and he saw at once that I was not to
      be wheedled. Thereupon he grinned brazenly at me, and demanded:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What did she say?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, sir,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;she was highly indignant at me for taking you and
      Mr. Tuttle into public houses and forcing you to drink liquor, but she was
      good enough, after I had expressed my great regret and promised to do
      better in the future, to promise that I should have another chance. It was
      more than I could have hoped, sir, after the outrageous manner in which I
      behaved.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      He grinned again at this, and in spite of my resentment I found myself
      grinning with him. I am aware that this was a most undignified submission
      to the injustice he had put upon me, and it was far from the line of stern
      rebuke that I had fully meant to adopt with him, but there seemed no other
      way. I mean to say, I couldn&rsquo;t help it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad to hear you talk that way,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It shows you may have
      something in you after all. What you want to do is to learn to say no.
      Then you won&rsquo;t be so much trouble to those who have to look after you.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;I shall try, sir.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Then I&rsquo;ll give you another chance,&rdquo; he said sternly.
    </p>
    <p>
      I mean to say, it was all spoofing, the way we talked. I am certain he
      knew it as well as I did, and I am sure we both enjoyed it. I am not one
      of those who think it shows a lack of dignity to unbend in this manner on
      occasion. True, it is not with every one I could afford to do so, but
      Cousin Egbert seemed to be an exception to almost every rule of conduct.
    </p>
    <p>
      At his earnest request I now procured for him another carafe of iced water
      (he seemed already to have consumed two of these), after which he
      suggested that I read to him. The book he had was the well-known story,
      &ldquo;Robinson Crusoe,&rdquo; and I began a chapter which describes some of the
      hero&rsquo;s adventures on his lonely island.
    </p>
    <p>
      Cousin Egbert, I was glad to note, was soon sleeping soundly, so I left
      him and retired to my own room for a bit of needed rest. The story of
      &ldquo;Robinson Crusoe&rdquo; is one in which many interesting facts are conveyed
      regarding life upon remote islands where there are practically no modern
      conveniences and one is put to all sorts of crude makeshifts, but for me
      the narrative contains too little dialogue.
    </p>
    <p>
      For the remainder of the day I was left to myself, a period of peace that
      I found most welcome. Not until evening did I meet any of the family
      except Cousin Egbert, who partook of some light nourishment late in the
      afternoon. Then it was that Mrs. Effie summoned me when she had dressed
      for dinner, to say:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;We are sailing for home the day after to-morrow. See that Cousin Egbert
      has everything he needs.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The following day was a busy one, for there were many boxes to be packed
      against the morrow&rsquo;s sailing, and much shopping to do for Cousin Egbert,
      although he was much against this.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s all nonsense,&rdquo; he insisted, &ldquo;her saying all that truck helps to
      &lsquo;finish&rsquo; me. Look at me! I&rsquo;ve been in Europe darned near four months and I
      can&rsquo;t see that I&rsquo;m a lick more finished than when I left Red Gap. Of
      course it may show on me so other people can see it, but I don&rsquo;t believe
      it does, at that.&rdquo; Nevertheless, I bought him no end of suits and smart
      haberdashery.
    </p>
    <p>
      When the last box had been strapped I hastened to our old lodgings on the
      chance of seeing the Honourable George once more. I found him dejectedly
      studying an ancient copy of the &ldquo;Referee.&rdquo; Too evidently he had dined that
      night in a costume which would, I am sure, have offended even Cousin
      Egbert. Above his dress trousers he wore a golfing waistcoat and a
      shooting jacket. However, I could not allow myself to be distressed by
      this. Indeed, I knew that worse would come. I forebore to comment upon the
      extraordinary choice of garments he had made. I knew it was quite useless.
      From any word that he let fall during our chat, he might have supposed
      himself to be dressed as an English gentleman should be.
    </p>
    <p>
      He bade me seat myself, and for some time we smoked our pipes in a
      friendly silence. I had feared that, as on the last occasion, he would row
      me for having deserted him, but he no longer seemed to harbour this unjust
      thought. We spoke of America, and I suggested that he might some time come
      out to shoot big game along the Ohio or the Mississippi. He replied
      moodily, after a long interval, that if he ever did come out it would be
      to set up a cattle plantation. It was rather agreed that he would come
      should I send for him. &ldquo;Can&rsquo;t sit around forever waiting for old Nevil&rsquo;s
      toast crumbs,&rdquo; said he.
    </p>
    <p>
      We chatted for a time of home politics, which was, of course, in a
      wretched state. There was a time when we might both have been won to a
      sane and reasoned liberalism, but the present so-called government was
      coming it a bit too thick for us. We said some sharp things about the
      little Welsh attorney who was beginning to be England&rsquo;s humiliation. Then
      it was time for me to go.
    </p>
    <p>
      The moment was rather awkward, for the Honourable George, to my great
      embarrassment, pressed upon me his dispatch-case, one that we had carried
      during all our travels and into which tidily fitted a quart flask. Brandy
      we usually carried in it. I managed to accept it with a word of thanks,
      and then amazingly he shook hands twice with me as we said good-night. I
      had never dreamed he could be so greatly affected. Indeed, I had always
      supposed that there was nothing of the sentimentalist about him.
    </p>
    <p>
      So the Honourable George and I were definitely apart for the first time in
      our lives.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was with mingled emotions that I set sail next day for the foreign land
      to which I had been exiled by a turn of the cards. Not only was I off to a
      wilderness where a life of daily adventure was the normal life, but I was
      to mingle with foreigners who promised to be quite almost impossibly
      queer, if the family of Flouds could be taken as a sample of the native
      American&mdash;knowing Indians like the Tuttle person; that sort of thing.
      If some would be less queer, others would be even more queer, with
      queerness of a sort to tax even my <i>savoir faire</i>, something which
      had been sorely taxed, I need hardly say, since that fatal evening when
      the Honourable George&rsquo;s intuitions had played him false in the game of
      drawing poker. I was not the first of my countrymen, however, to find
      himself in desperate straits, and I resolved to behave as England expects
      us to.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have said that I was viewing the prospect with mingled emotions. Before
      we had been out many hours they became so mingled that, having crossed the
      Channel many times, I could no longer pretend to ignore their true nature.
      For three days I was at the mercy of the elements, and it was then I
      discovered a certain hardness in the nature of Cousin Egbert which I had
      not before suspected. It was only by speaking in the sharpest manner to
      him that I was able to secure the nursing my condition demanded. I made no
      doubt he would actually have left me to the care of a steward had I not
      been firm with him. I have known him leave my bedside for an hour at a
      time when it seemed probable that I would pass away at any moment. And
      more than once, when I summoned him in the night to administer one of the
      remedies with which I had provided myself, or perhaps to question him if
      the ship were out of danger, he exhibited something very like irritation.
      Indeed he was never properly impressed by my suffering, and at times when
      he would answer my call it was plain to be seen that he had been passing
      idle moments in the smoke-room or elsewhere, quite as if the situation
      were an ordinary one.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is only fair to say, however, that toward the end of my long and
      interesting illness I had quite broken his spirit and brought him to be as
      attentive as even I could wish. By the time I was able with his assistance
      to go upon deck again he was bringing me nutritive wines and jellies
      without being told, and so attentive did he remain that I overheard a
      fellow-passenger address him as Florence Nightingale. I also overheard the
      Senator tell him that I had got his sheep, whatever that may have meant&mdash;a
      sheep or a goat&mdash;some domestic animal. Yet with all his willingness
      he was clumsy in his handling of me; he seemed to take nothing with any
      proper seriousness, and in spite of my sharpest warning he would never
      wear the proper clothes, so that I always felt he was attracting undue
      attention to us. Indeed, I should hardly care to cross with him again, and
      this I told him straight.
    </p>
    <p>
      Of the so-called joys of ship-life, concerning which the boat companies
      speak so enthusiastically in their folders, the less said the better. It
      is a childish mind, I think, that can be impressed by the mere wabbly bulk
      of water. It is undoubtedly tremendous, but nothing to kick up such a row
      about. The truth is that the prospect from a ship&rsquo;s deck lacks that
      variety which one may enjoy from almost any English hillside. One sees
      merely water, and that&rsquo;s all about it.
    </p>
    <p>
      It will be understood, therefore, that I hailed our approach to the shores
      of foreign America with relief if not with enthusiasm. Even this was
      better than an ocean which has only size in its favour and has been quite
      too foolishly overrated.
    </p>
    <p>
      We were soon steaming into the harbour of one of their large cities.
      Chicago, I had fancied it to be, until the chance remark of an American
      who looked to be a well-informed fellow identified it as New York. I was
      much annoyed now at the behaviour of Cousin Egbert, who burst into silly
      cheers at the slightest excuse, a passing steamer, a green hill, or a
      rusty statue of quite ungainly height which seemed to be made of crude
      iron. Do as I would, I could not restrain him from these unseemly shouts.
      I could not help contrasting his boisterousness with the fine reserve
      which, for example, the Honourable George would have maintained under
      these circumstances.
    </p>
    <p>
      A further relief it was, therefore, when we were on the dock and his mind
      was diverted to other matters. A long time we were detained by customs
      officials who seemed rather overwhelmed by the gowns and millinery of Mrs.
      Effie, but we were at last free and taken through the streets of the crude
      new American city of New York to a hotel overlooking what I dare say in
      their simplicity they call their Hyde Park.
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER FIVE
    </h2>
    <p>
      I must admit that at this inn they did things quite nicely, doubtless
      because it seemed to be almost entirely staffed by foreigners. One would
      scarce have known within its walls that one had come out to North America,
      nor that savage wilderness surrounded one on every hand. Indeed I was
      surprised to learn that we were quite at the edge of the rough Western
      frontier, for in but one night&rsquo;s journey we were to reach the American
      mountains to visit some people who inhabited a camp in their dense wilds.
    </p>
    <p>
      A bit of romantic thrill I felt in this adventure, for we should
      encounter, I inferred, people of the hardy pioneer stock that has pushed
      the American civilization, such as it is, ever westward. I pictured the
      stalwart woodsman, axe in hand, braving the forest to fell trees for his
      rustic home, while at night the red savages prowled about to scalp any who
      might stray from the blazing campfire. On the day of our landing I had
      read something of this&mdash;of depredations committed by their Indians at
      Arizona.
    </p>
    <p>
      From what would, I take it, be their Victoria station, we three began our
      journey in one of the Pullman night coaches, the Senator of this family
      having proceeded to their home settlement of Red Gap with word that he
      must &ldquo;look after his fences,&rdquo; referring, doubtless, to those about his
      cattle plantation.
    </p>
    <p>
      As our train moved out Mrs. Effie summoned me for a serious talk
      concerning the significance of our present visit; not of the wilderness
      dangers to which we might be exposed, but of its social aspects, which
      seemed to be of prime importance. We were to visit, I learned, one Charles
      Belknap-Jackson of Boston and Red Gap, he being a person who mattered
      enormously, coming from one of the very oldest families of Boston, a port
      on their east coast, and a place, I gathered, in which some decent
      attention is given to the matter of who has been one&rsquo;s family. A bit of a
      shock it was to learn that in this rough land they had their castes and
      precedences. I saw I had been right to suspect that even a crude society
      could not exist without its rules for separating one&rsquo;s superiors from the
      lower sorts. I began to feel at once more at home and I attended the
      discourse of Mrs. Effie with close attention.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Boston person, in one of those irresponsibly romantic moments that
      sometimes trap the best of us, had married far beneath him, espousing the
      simple daughter of one of the crude, old-settling families of Red Gap.
      Further, so inattentive to details had he been, he had neglected to secure
      an ante-nuptial settlement as our own men so wisely make it their rule to
      do, and was now suffering a painful embarrassment from this folly; for the
      mother-in-law, controlling the rather sizable family fortune, had harshly
      insisted that the pair reside in Red Gap, permitting no more than an
      occasional summer visit to his native Boston, whose inhabitants she
      affected not to admire.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Of course the poor fellow suffers frightfully,&rdquo; explained Mrs. Effie,
      &ldquo;shut off there away from all he&rsquo;d been brought up to, but good has come
      of it, for his presence has simply done wonders for us. Before he came our
      social life was too awful for words&mdash;oh, a <i>mixture</i>!
      Practically every one in town attended our dances; no one had ever told us
      any better. The Bohemian set mingled freely with the very oldest families&mdash;oh,
      in a way that would never be tolerated in London society, I&rsquo;m sure. And
      everything so crude! Why, I can remember when no one thought of putting
      doilies under the finger-bowls. No tone to it at all. For years we had no
      country club, if you can believe that. And even now, in spite of the
      efforts of Charles and a few of us, there are still some of the older
      families that are simply sloppy in their entertaining. And promiscuous.
      The trouble I&rsquo;ve had with the Senator and Cousin Egbert!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The Flouds are an old family?&rdquo; I suggested, wishing to understand these
      matters deeply.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The Flouds,&rdquo; she answered impressively, &ldquo;were living in Red Gap before
      the spur track was ever run out to the canning factory&mdash;and I guess
      you know what that means!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Quite so, Madam,&rdquo; I suggested; and, indeed, though it puzzled me a bit,
      it sounded rather tremendous, as meaning with us something like since the
      battle of Hastings.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But, as I say, Charles at once gave us a glimpse of the better things.
      Thanks to him, the Bohemian set and the North Side set are now fairly
      distinct. The scraps we&rsquo;ve had with that Bohemian set! He has a real
      genius for leadership, Charles has, but I know he often finds it so
      discouraging, getting people to know their places. Even his own
      mother-in-law, Mrs. Lysander John Pettengill&mdash;but you&rsquo;ll see
      to-morrow how impossible she is, poor old soul! I shouldn&rsquo;t talk about
      her, I really shouldn&rsquo;t. Awfully good heart the poor old dear has, but&mdash;well,
      I don&rsquo;t see why I shouldn&rsquo;t tell you the exact truth in plain words&mdash;you&rsquo;d
      find it out soon enough. She is simply a confirmed <i>mixer</i>. The trial
      she&rsquo;s been and is to poor Charles! Almost no respect for any of the higher
      things he stands for&mdash;and temper? Well, I&rsquo;ve heard her swear at him
      till you&rsquo;d have thought it was Jeff Tuttle packing a green cayuse for the
      first time. Words? Talk about words! And Cousin Egbert always standing in
      with her. He&rsquo;s been another awful trial, refusing to play tennis at the
      country club, or to take up golf, or do any of those smart things, though
      I got him a beautiful lot of sticks. But no: when he isn&rsquo;t out in the
      hills, he&rsquo;d rather sit down in that back room at the Silver Dollar saloon,
      playing cribbage all day with a lot of drunken loafers. But I&rsquo;m so hoping
      that will be changed, now that I&rsquo;ve made him see there are better things
      in life. Don&rsquo;t you really think he&rsquo;s another man?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;To an extent, Madam, I dare say,&rdquo; I replied cautiously.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s chiefly what I got you for,&rdquo; she went on. &ldquo;And then, in a general
      way you will give tone to our establishment. The moment I saw you I knew
      you could be an influence for good among us. No one there has ever had
      anything like you. Not even Charles. He&rsquo;s tried to have American valets,
      but you never can get them to understand their place. Charles finds them
      so offensively familiar. They don&rsquo;t seem to realize. But of course you
      realize.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I inclined my head in sympathetic understanding.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m looking forward to Charles meeting you. I guess he&rsquo;ll be a little put
      out at our having you, but there&rsquo;s no harm letting him see I&rsquo;m to be
      reckoned with. Naturally his wife, Millie, is more or less mentioned as a
      social leader, but I never could see that she is really any more prominent
      than I am. In fact, last year after our Bazaar of All Nations our pictures
      in costume were in the Spokane paper as &lsquo;Red Gap&rsquo;s Rival Society Queens,&rsquo; 
      and I suppose that&rsquo;s what we are, though we work together pretty well as a
      rule. Still, I must say, having you puts me a couple of notches ahead of
      her. Only, for heaven&rsquo;s sake, keep your eye on Cousin Egbert!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I shall do my duty, Madam,&rdquo; I returned, thinking it all rather morbidly
      interesting, these weird details about their county families.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure you will,&rdquo; she said at parting. &ldquo;I feel that we shall do things
      right this year. Last year the Sunday Spokane paper used to have nearly a
      column under the heading &lsquo;Social Doings of Red Gap&rsquo;s Smart Set.&rsquo; This year
      we&rsquo;ll have a good two columns, if I don&rsquo;t miss my guess.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      In the smoking-compartment I found Cousin Egbert staring gloomily into
      vacancy, as one might say, the reason I knew being that he had vainly
      pleaded with Mrs. Effie to be allowed to spend this time at their Coney
      Island, which is a sort of Brighton. He transferred his stare to me, but
      it lost none of its gloom.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Hell begins to pop!&rdquo; said he.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Referring to what, sir?&rdquo; I rejoined with some severity, for I have never
      held with profanity.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Referring to Charles Belknap Hyphen Jackson of Boston, Mass.,&rdquo; said he,
      &ldquo;the greatest little trouble-maker that ever crossed the hills&mdash;with
      a bracelet on one wrist and a watch on the other and a one-shot eyeglass
      and a gold cigareet case and key chains, rings, bangles, and jewellery
      till he&rsquo;d sink like lead if he ever fell into the crick with all that
      metal on.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You are speaking, sir, about a person who matters enormously,&rdquo; I rebuked
      him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;If I hadn&rsquo;t been afraid of getting arrested I&rsquo;d have shot him long ago.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s not done, sir,&rdquo; I said, quite horrified by his rash words.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s liable to be,&rdquo; he insisted. &ldquo;I bet Ma Pettengill will go in with me
      on it any time I give her the word. Say, listen! there&rsquo;s one good mixer.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The confirmed Mixer, sir?&rdquo; For I remembered the term.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The best ever. Any one can set into her game that&rsquo;s got a stack of
      chips.&rdquo; He uttered this with deep feeling, whatever it might exactly mean.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I can be pushed just so far,&rdquo; he insisted sullenly. It struck me then
      that he should perhaps have been kept longer in one of the European
      capitals. I feared his brief contact with those refining influences had
      left him less polished than Mrs. Effie seemed to hope. I wondered uneasily
      if he might not cause her to miss her guess. Yet I saw he was in no mood
      to be reasoned with, and I retired to my bed which the blackamoor guard
      had done out. Here I meditated profoundly for some time before I slept.
    </p>
    <p>
      Morning found our coach shunted to a siding at a backwoods settlement on
      the borders of an inland sea. The scene was wild beyond description, where
      quite almost anything might be expected to happen, though I was a bit
      reassured by the presence of a number of persons of both sexes who
      appeared to make little of the dangers by which we were surrounded. I mean
      to say since they thus took their women into the wilds so freely, I would
      still be a dead sportsman.
    </p>
    <p>
      After a brief wait at a rude quay we embarked on a launch and steamed out
      over the water. Mile after mile we passed wooded shores that sloped up to
      mountains of prodigious height. Indeed the description of the Rocky
      Mountains, of which I take these to be a part, have not been overdrawn.
      From time to time, at the edge of the primeval forest, I could make out
      the rude shelters of hunter and trapper who braved these perils for the
      sake of a scanty livelihood for their hardy wives and little ones.
    </p>
    <p>
      Cousin Egbert, beside me, seemed unimpressed, making no outcry at the
      fearsome wildness of the scene, and when I spoke of the terrific height of
      the mountains he merely admonished me to &ldquo;quit my kidding.&rdquo; The sole
      interest he had thus far displayed was in the title of our craft&mdash;<i>Storm
      King</i>.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Think of the guy&rsquo;s imagination, naming this here chafing dish the <i>Storm
      King</i>!&rdquo; said he; but I was impatient of levity at so solemn a moment,
      and promptly rebuked him for having donned a cravat that I had warned him
      was for town wear alone; whereat he subsided and did not again intrude
      upon me.
    </p>
    <p>
      Far ahead, at length, I could descry an open glade at the forest edge, and
      above this I soon spied floating the North American flag, or national
      emblem. It is, of course, known to us that the natives are given to making
      rather a silly noise over this flag of theirs, but in this instance&mdash;the
      pioneer fighting his way into the wilderness and hoisting it above his
      frontier home&mdash;I felt strangely indisposed to criticise. I understood
      that he could be greatly cheered by the flag of the country he had left
      behind.
    </p>
    <p>
      We now neared a small dock from which two ladies brandished handkerchiefs
      at us, and were presently welcomed by them. I had no difficulty in
      identifying the Mrs. Charles Belknap-Jackson, a lively featured brunette
      of neutral tints, rather stubby as to figure, but modishly done out in
      white flannels. She surveyed us interestedly through a lorgnon, observing
      which Mrs. Effie was quick with her own. I surmised that neither of them
      was skilled with this form of glass (which must really be raised with an
      air or it&rsquo;s no good); also that each was not a little chagrined to note
      that the other possessed one.
    </p>
    <p>
      Nor was it less evident that the other lady was the mother of Mrs.
      Belknap-Jackson; I mean to say, the confirmed Mixer&mdash;an elderly
      person of immense bulk in gray walking-skirt, heavy boots, and a flowered
      blouse that was overwhelming. Her face, under her grayish thatch of hair,
      was broad and smiling, the eyes keen, the mouth wide, and the nose rather
      a bit blobby. Although at every point she was far from vogue, she
      impressed me not unpleasantly. Even her voice, a magnificently hoarse
      rumble, was primed with a sort of uncouth good-will which one might accept
      in the States. Of course it would never do with us.
    </p>
    <p>
      I fancied I could at once detect why they had called her the &ldquo;Mixer.&rdquo; She
      embraced Mrs. Effie with an air of being about to strangle the woman; she
      affectionately wrung the hands of Cousin Egbert, and had grasped my own
      tightly before I could evade her, not having looked for that sort of
      thing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s Cousin Egbert&rsquo;s man!&rdquo; called Mrs. Effie. But even then the
      powerful creature would not release me until her daughter had called
      sharply, &ldquo;Maw! Don&rsquo;t you hear? He&rsquo;s a <i>man</i>!&rdquo; Nevertheless she gave
      my hand a parting shake before turning to the others.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Glad to see a human face at last!&rdquo; she boomed. &ldquo;Here I&rsquo;ve been a month in
      this dinky hole,&rdquo; which I thought strange, since we were surrounded by
      league upon league of the primal wilderness. &ldquo;Cooped up like a hen in a
      barrel,&rdquo; she added in tones that must have carried well out over the lake.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Cousin Egbert&rsquo;s man,&rdquo; repeated Mrs. Effie, a little ostentatiously, I
      thought. &ldquo;Poor Egbert&rsquo;s so dependent on him&mdash;quite helpless without
      him.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Cousin Egbert muttered sullenly to himself as he assisted me with the
      bags. Then he straightened himself to address them.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Won him in a game of freeze-out,&rdquo; he remarked quite viciously.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Does he doll Sour-dough up like that all the time?&rdquo; demanded the Mixer,
      &ldquo;or has he just come from a masquerade? What&rsquo;s he represent, anyway?&rdquo; And
      these words when I had taken especial pains and resorted to all manner of
      threats to turn him smartly out in the walking-suit of a pioneer!
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Maw!&rdquo; cried our hostess, &ldquo;do try to forget that dreadful nickname of
      Egbert&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I sure will if he keeps his disguise on,&rdquo; she rumbled back. &ldquo;The old
      horned toad is most as funny as Jackson.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Really, I mean to say, they talked most amazingly. I was but too glad when
      they moved on and we could follow with the bags.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Calls her &lsquo;Maw&rsquo; all right now,&rdquo; hissed Cousin Egbert in my ear, &ldquo;but when
      that begoshed husband of hers is around the house she calls her &lsquo;Mater.&rsquo;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      His tone was vastly bitter. He continued to mutter sullenly to himself&mdash;a
      way he had&mdash;until we had disposed of the luggage and I was laying out
      his afternoon and evening wear in one of the small detached houses to
      which we had been assigned. Nor did he sink his grievance on the arrival
      of the Mixer a few moments later. He now addressed her as &ldquo;Ma&rdquo; and asked
      if she had &ldquo;the makings,&rdquo; which puzzled me until she drew from the pocket
      of her skirt a small cloth sack of tobacco and some bits of brown paper,
      from which they both fashioned cigarettes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The smart set of Red Gap is holding its first annual meeting for the
      election of officers back there,&rdquo; she began after she had emitted twin
      jets of smoke from the widely separated corners of her set mouth.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I say, you know, where&rsquo;s Hyphen old top?&rdquo; demanded Cousin Egbert in a
      quite vile imitation of one speaking in the correct manner.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Fishing,&rdquo; answered the Mixer with a grin. &ldquo;In a thousand dollars&rsquo; worth
      of clothes. These here Eastern trout won&rsquo;t notice you unless you dress
      right.&rdquo; I thought this strange indeed, but Cousin Egbert merely grinned in
      his turn.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;How&rsquo;d he get you into this awfully horrid rough place?&rdquo; he next demanded.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Made him. &lsquo;This or Red Gap for yours,&rsquo; I says. The two weeks in New York
      wasn&rsquo;t so bad, what with Millie and me getting new clothes, though him and
      her both jumped on me that I&rsquo;m getting too gay about clothes for a party
      of my age. &lsquo;What&rsquo;s age to me,&rsquo; I says, &lsquo;when I like bright colours?&rsquo; Then
      we tried his home-folks in Boston, but I played that string out in a week.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Two old-maid sisters, thin noses and knitted shawls! Stick around in the
      back parlour talking about families&mdash;whether it was Aunt Lucy&rsquo;s
      Abigail or the Concord cousin&rsquo;s Hester that married an Adams in &lsquo;78 and
      moved out west to Buffalo. I thought first I could liven them up some, <i>you</i>
      know. Looked like it would help a lot for them to get out in a hack and
      get a few shots of hooch under their belts, stop at a few roadhouses, take
      in a good variety show; get &lsquo;em to feeling good, understand? No use.
      Wouldn&rsquo;t start. Darn it! they held off from me. Don&rsquo;t know why. I sure
      wore clothes for them. Yes, sir. I&rsquo;d get dressed up like a broken arm
      every afternoon; and, say, I got one sheath skirt, black and white
      striped, that just has to be looked at. Never phased them, though.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I got to thinking mebbe it was because I made my own smokes instead of
      using those vegetable cigarettes of Jackson&rsquo;s, or maybe because I&rsquo;d get
      parched and demand a slug of booze before supper. Like a Sunday afternoon
      all the time, when you eat a big dinner and everybody&rsquo;s sleepy and mad
      because they can&rsquo;t take a nap, and have to set around and play a few
      church tunes on the organ or look through the album again.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ain&rsquo;t that right? Don&rsquo;t it fade you?&rdquo; murmured Cousin Egbert with deep
      feeling.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And little Lysander, my only grandson, poor kid, getting the fidgets
      because they try to make him talk different, and raise hell every time he
      knocks over a vase or busts a window. Say, would you believe it? they
      wanted to keep him there&mdash;yes, sir&mdash;make him refined. Not for
      me! &lsquo;His father&rsquo;s about all he can survive in those respects,&rsquo; I says.
      What do you think? Wanted to let his hair grow so he&rsquo;d have curls. Some
      dames, yes? I bet they&rsquo;d have give the kid lovely days. &lsquo;Boston may be all
      O.K. for grandfathers,&rsquo; I says; &lsquo;not for grandsons, though.&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Then Jackson was set on Bar Harbor, and I had to be firm again. Darn it!
      that man is always making me be firm. So here we are. He said it was a
      camp, and that sounded good. But my lands! he wears his full evening dress
      suit for supper every night, and you had ought to heard him go on one day
      when the patent ice-machine went bad.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;My good gosh!&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert quite simply.
    </p>
    <p>
      I had now finished laying out his things and was about to withdraw.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Is he always like that?&rdquo; suddenly demanded the Mixer, pointing at me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Oh, Bill&rsquo;s all right when you get him out with a crowd,&rdquo; explained the
      other. &ldquo;Bill&rsquo;s really got the makings of one fine little mixer.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      They both regarded me genially. It was vastly puzzling. I mean to say, I
      was at a loss how to take it, for, of course, that sort of thing would
      never do with us. And yet I felt a queer, confused sort of pleasure in the
      talk. Absurd though it may seem, I felt there might come moments in which
      America would appear almost not impossible.
    </p>
    <p>
      As I went out Cousin Egbert was telling her of Paris. I lingered to hear
      him disclose that all Frenchmen have &ldquo;M&rdquo; for their first initial, and that
      the Louer family must be one of their wealthiest, the name &ldquo;A. Louer&rdquo;
       being conspicuous on millions of dollars&rsquo; worth of their real estate. This
      family, he said, must be like the Rothschilds. Of course the poor soul was
      absurdly wrong. I mean to say, the letter &ldquo;M&rdquo; merely indicates &ldquo;Monsieur,&rdquo;
       which is their foreign way of spelling Mister, while &ldquo;A Louer&rdquo; signifies
      &ldquo;to let.&rdquo; I resolved to explain this to him at the first opportunity, not
      thinking it right that he should spread such gross error among a race
      still but half-enlightened.
    </p>
    <p>
      Having now a bit of time to myself, I observed the construction of this
      rude homestead, a dozen or more detached or semi-detached structures of
      the native log, yet with the interiors more smartly done out than I had
      supposed was common even with the most prosperous of their scouts and
      trappers. I suspected a false idea of this rude life had been given by the
      cinema dramas. I mean to say, with pianos, ice-machines, telephones,
      objects of art, and servants, one saw that these woodsmen were not
      primitive in any true sense of the word.
    </p>
    <p>
      The butler proved to be a genuine blackamoor, a Mr. Waterman, he informed
      me, his wife, also a black, being the cook. An elderly creature of the
      utmost gravity of bearing, he brought to his professional duties a finish,
      a dignity, a manner in short that I have scarce known excelled among our
      own serving people. And a creature he was of the most eventful past, as he
      informed me at our first encounter. As a slave he had commanded an
      immensely high price, some twenty thousand dollars, as the American money
      is called, and two prominent slaveholders had once fought a duel to the
      death over his possession. Not many, he assured me, had been so eagerly
      sought after, they being for the most part held cheaper&mdash;&ldquo;common
      black trash,&rdquo; he put it.
    </p>
    <p>
      Early tiring of the life of slavery, he had fled to the wilds and for some
      years led a desperate band of outlaws whose crimes soon put a price upon
      his head. He spoke frankly and with considerable regret of these lawless
      years. At the outbreak of the American war, however, with a reward of
      fifty thousand dollars offered for his body, he had boldly surrendered to
      their Secretary of State for War, receiving a full pardon for his crimes
      on condition that he assist in directing the military operations against
      the slaveholding aristocracy. Invaluable he had been in this service, I
      gathered, two generals, named respectively Grant and Sherman, having
      repeatedly assured him that but for his aid they would more than once in
      sheer despair have laid down their swords.
    </p>
    <p>
      I could readily imagine that after these years of strife he had been glad
      to embrace the peaceful calling in which I found him engaged. He was, as I
      have intimated, a person of lofty demeanour, with a vein of high
      seriousness. Yet he would unbend at moments as frankly as a child and play
      at a simple game of chance with a pair of dice. This he was good enough to
      teach to myself and gained from me quite a number of shillings that I
      chanced to have. For his consort, a person of tremendous bulk named
      Clarice, he showed a most chivalric consideration, and even what I might
      have mistaken for timidity in one not a confessed desperado. In truth, he
      rather flinched when she interrupted our chat from the kitchen doorway by
      roundly calling him &ldquo;an old black liar.&rdquo; I saw that his must indeed be a
      complex nature.
    </p>
    <p>
      From this encounter I chanced upon two lads who seemed to present the
      marks of the backwoods life as I had conceived it. Strolling up a woodland
      path, I discovered a tent pitched among the trees, before it a smouldering
      campfire, over which a cooking-pot hung. The two lads, of ten years or so,
      rushed from the tent to regard me, both attired in shirts and leggings of
      deerskin profusely fringed after the manner in which the red Indians
      decorate their outing or lounge-suits. They were armed with sheath knives
      and revolvers, and the taller bore a rifle.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Howdy, stranger?&rdquo; exclaimed this one, and the other repeated the simple
      American phrase of greeting. Responding in kind, I was bade to seat myself
      on a fallen log, which I did. For some moments they appeared to ignore me,
      excitedly discussing an adventure of the night before, and addressing each
      other as Dead Shot and Hawk Eye. From their quaint backwoods speech I
      gathered that Dead Shot, the taller lad, had the day before been captured
      by a band of hostile redskins who would have burned him at the stake but
      for the happy chance that the chieftain&rsquo;s daughter had become enamoured of
      him and cut his bonds.
    </p>
    <p>
      They now planned to return to the encampment at nightfall to fetch away
      the daughter, whose name was White Fawn, and cleaned and oiled their
      weapons for the enterprise. Dead Shot was vindictive in the extreme,
      swearing to engage the chieftain in mortal combat and to cut his heart
      out, the same chieftain in former years having led his savage band against
      the forest home of Dead Shot while he was yet too young to defend it, and
      scalped both of his parents. &ldquo;I was a mere stripling then, but now the
      coward will feel my steel!&rdquo; he coldly declared.
    </p>
    <p>
      It had become absurdly evident as I listened that the whole thing was but
      spoofing of a silly sort that lads of this age will indulge in, for I had
      seen the younger one take his seat at the luncheon table. But now they
      spoke of a raid on the settlement to procure &ldquo;grub,&rdquo; as the American slang
      for food has it. Bidding me stop on there and to utter the cry of the
      great horned owl if danger threatened, they stealthily crept toward the
      buildings of the camp. Presently came a scream, followed by a hoarse shout
      of rage. A second later the two dashed by me into the dense woods, Hawk
      Eye bearing a plucked fowl. Soon Mr. Waterman panted up the path
      brandishing a barge pole and demanding to know the whereabouts of the
      marauders. As he had apparently for the moment reverted to his primal
      African savagery, I deliberately misled him by indicating a false
      direction, upon which he went off, muttering the most frightful threats.
    </p>
    <p>
      The two culprits returned, put their fowl in the pot to boil, and swore me
      eternal fidelity for having saved them. They declared I should thereafter
      be known as Keen Knife, and that, needing a service, I might call upon
      them freely.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Dead Shot never forgets a friend,&rdquo; affirmed the taller lad, whereupon I
      formally shook hands with the pair and left them to their childish
      devices. They were plotting as I left to capture &ldquo;that nigger,&rdquo; as they
      called him, and put him to death by slow torture.
    </p>
    <p>
      But I was now shrewd enough to suspect that I might still be far from the
      western frontier of America. The evidence had been cumulative but was no
      longer questionable. I mean to say, one might do here somewhat after the
      way of our own people at a country house in the shires. I resolved at the
      first opportunity to have a look at a good map of our late colonies.
    </p>
    <p>
      Late in the afternoon our party gathered upon the small dock and I
      understood that our host now returned from his trouting. Along the shore
      of the lake he came, propelled in a native canoe by a hairy backwoods
      person quite wretchedly gotten up, even for a wilderness. Our host
      himself, I was quick to observe, was vogue to the last detail, with a
      sense of dress and equipment that can never be acquired, having to be born
      in one. As he stepped from his frail craft I saw that he was rather slight
      of stature, dark, with slender moustaches, a finely sensitive nose, and
      eyes of an almost austere repose. That he had much of the real manner was
      at once apparent. He greeted the Flouds and his own family with just that
      faint touch of easy superiority which would stamp him to the trained eye
      as one that really mattered. Mrs. Effie beckoned me to the group.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Let Ruggles take your things&mdash;Cousin Egbert&rsquo;s man,&rdquo; she was saying.
      After a startled glance at Cousin Egbert, our host turned to regard me
      with flattering interest for a moment, then transferred to me his oddments
      of fishing machinery: his rod, his creel, his luncheon hamper, landing
      net, small scales, ointment for warding off midges, a jar of cold cream, a
      case containing smoked glasses, a rolled map, a camera, a book of flies.
      As I was stowing these he explained that his sport had been wretched; no
      fish had been hooked because his guide had not known where to find them. I
      here glanced at the backwoods person referred to and at once did not like
      the look in his eyes. He winked swiftly at Cousin Egbert, who coughed
      rather formally.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Let Ruggles help you to change,&rdquo; continued Mrs. Effie. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s awfully
      handy. Poor Cousin Egbert is perfectly helpless now without him.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      So I followed our host to his own detached hut, though feeling a bit queer
      at being passed about in this manner, I mean to say, as if I were a basket
      of fruit. Yet I found it a grateful change to be serving one who knew our
      respective places and what I should do for him. His manner of speech,
      also, was less barbarous than that of the others, suggesting that he might
      have lived among our own people a fortnight or so and have tried earnestly
      to correct his deficiencies. In fact he remarked to me after a bit: &ldquo;I
      fancy I talk rather like one of yourselves, what?&rdquo; and was pleased as
      Punch when I assured him that I had observed this. He questioned me at
      length regarding my association with the Honourable George, and the houses
      at which we would have stayed, being immensely particular about names and
      titles.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll find us vastly different here,&rdquo; he said with a sigh, as I held his
      coat for him. &ldquo;Crude, I may say. In truth, Red Gap, where my interests
      largely confine me, is a town of impossible persons. You&rsquo;ll see in no time
      what I mean.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I can already imagine it, sir,&rdquo; I said sympathetically.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s not for want of example,&rdquo; he added. &ldquo;Scores of times I show them
      better ways, but they&rsquo;re eaten up with commercialism&mdash;money-grubbing.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I perceived him to be a person of profound and interesting views, and it
      was with regret I left him to bully Cousin Egbert into evening dress. It
      is undoubtedly true that he will never wear this except it have the look
      of having been forced upon him by several persons of superior physical
      strength.
    </p>
    <p>
      The evening passed in a refined manner with cards and music, the latter
      being emitted from a phonograph which I was asked to attend to and upon
      which I reproduced many of their quaint North American folksongs, such as
      &ldquo;Everybody Is Doing It,&rdquo; which has a rare native rhythm. At ten o&rsquo;clock,
      it being noticed by the three playing dummy bridge that Cousin Egbert and
      the Mixer were absent, I accompanied our host in search of them. In Cousin
      Egbert&rsquo;s hut we found them, seated at a bare table, playing at cards&mdash;a
      game called seven-upwards, I learned. Cousin Egbert had removed his coat,
      collar, and cravat, and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows like a
      navvy&rsquo;s. Both smoked the brown paper cigarettes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You see?&rdquo; murmured Mr. Belknap-Jackson as we looked in upon them.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Quite so, sir,&rdquo; I said discreetly.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Mixer regarded her son-in-law with some annoyance, I thought.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Run off to bed, Jackson!&rdquo; she directed. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re busy. I&rsquo;m putting a nick
      in Sour-dough&rsquo;s bank roll.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Our host turned away with a contemptuous shrug that I dare say might have
      offended her had she observed it, but she was now speaking to Cousin
      Egbert, who had stared at us brazenly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ring that bell for the coon, Sour-dough. I&rsquo;ll split a bottle of Scotch
      with you.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      It queerly occurred to me that she made this monstrous suggestion in a
      spirit of bravado to annoy Mr. Belknap-Jackson.
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER SIX
    </h2>
    <p>
      There are times when all Nature seems to smile, yet when to the sensitive
      mind it will be faintly brought that the possibilities are quite
      tremendously otherwise if one will consider them pro and con. I mean to
      say, one often suspects things may happen when it doesn&rsquo;t look so.
    </p>
    <p>
      The succeeding three days passed with so ordered a calm that little would
      any but a profound thinker have fancied tragedy to lurk so near their
      placid surface. Mrs. Effie and Mrs. Belknap-Jackson continued to plan the
      approaching social campaign at Red Gap. Cousin Egbert and the Mixer
      continued their card game for the trifling stake of a shilling a game, or
      &ldquo;two bits,&rdquo; as it is known in the American monetary system. And our host
      continued his recreation.
    </p>
    <p>
      Each morning I turned him out in the smartest of fishing costumes and each
      evening I assisted him to change. It is true I was now compelled to
      observe at these times a certain lofty irritability in his character, yet
      I more than half fancied this to be queerly assumed in order to inform me
      that he was not unaccustomed to services such as I rendered him. There was
      that about him. I mean to say, when he sharply rebuked me for clumsiness
      or cried out &ldquo;Stupid!&rdquo; it had a perfunctory languor, as if meant to show
      me he could address a servant in what he believed to be the grand manner.
      In this, to be sure, he was so oddly wrong that the pathos of it quite
      drowned what I might otherwise have felt of resentment.
    </p>
    <p>
      But I next observed that he was sharp in the same manner with the hairy
      backwoods person who took him to fish each day, using words to him which
      I, for one, would have employed, had I thought them merited, only after
      the gravest hesitation. I have before remarked that I did not like the
      gleam in this person&rsquo;s eyes: he was very apparently a not quite nice
      person. Also I more than once observed him to wink at Cousin Egbert in an
      evil manner.
    </p>
    <p>
      As I have so truly said, how close may tragedy be to us when life seems
      most correct! It was Belknap-Jackson&rsquo;s custom to raise a view halloo each
      evening when he returned down the lake, so that we might gather at the
      dock to oversee his landing. I must admit that he disembarked with
      somewhat the manner of a visiting royalty, demanding much attention and
      assistance with his impedimenta. Undoubtedly he liked to be looked at.
      This was what one rather felt. And I can fancy that this very human trait
      of his had in a manner worn upon the probably undisciplined nerves of the
      backwoods josser&mdash;had, in fact, deprived him of his &ldquo;goat,&rdquo; as the
      native people have it.
    </p>
    <p>
      Be this as it may, we gathered at the dock on the afternoon of the third
      day of our stay to assist at the return. As the native log craft neared
      the dock our host daringly arose to a graceful kneeling posture in the bow
      and saluted us charmingly, the woods person in the stern wielding his
      single oar in gloomy silence. At the moment a most poetic image occurred
      to me&mdash;that he was like a dull grim figure of Fate that fetches us
      low at the moment of our highest seeming. I mean to say, it was a silly
      thought, perhaps, yet I afterward recalled it most vividly.
    </p>
    <p>
      Holding his creel aloft our host hailed us:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Full to-day, thanks to going where I wished and paying no attention to
      silly guides&rsquo; talk.&rdquo; He beamed upon us in an unquestionably superior
      manner, and again from the moody figure at the stern I intercepted the
      flash of a wink to Cousin Egbert. Then as the frail craft had all but
      touched the dock and our host had half risen, there was a sharp dipping of
      the thing and he was ejected into the chilling waters, where he almost
      instantly sank. There were loud cries of alarm from all, including the
      woodsman himself, who had kept the craft upright, and in these Mr.
      Belknap-Jackson heartily joined the moment his head appeared above the
      surface, calling &ldquo;Help!&rdquo; in the quite loudest of tones, which was
      thoughtless enough, as we were close at hand and could easily have heard
      his ordinary speaking voice.
    </p>
    <p>
      The woods person now stepped to the dock, and firmly grasping the collar
      of the drowning man hauled him out with but little effort, at the same
      time becoming voluble with apologies and sympathy. The rescued man,
      however, was quite off his head with rage and bluntly berated the fellow
      for having tried to assassinate him. Indeed he put forth rather a torrent
      of execration, but to all of this the fellow merely repeated his crude
      protestations of regret and astonishment, seeming to be sincerely grieved
      that his intentions should have been doubted.
    </p>
    <p>
      From his friends about him the unfortunate man was receiving the most
      urgent advice to seek dry garments lest he perish of chill, whereupon he
      turned abruptly to me and cried: &ldquo;Well, Stupid, don&rsquo;t you see the state
      that fellow has put me in? What are you doing? Have you lost your wits?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Now I had suffered a very proper alarm and solicitude for him, but the
      injustice of this got a bit on me. I mean to say, I suddenly felt a bit of
      temper myself, though to be sure retaining my control.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir; quite so, sir,&rdquo; I replied smoothly. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have you right as
      rain in no time at all, sir,&rdquo; and started to conduct him off the dock. But
      now, having gone a little distance, he began to utter the most violent
      threats against the woods person, declaring, in fact, he would pull the
      fellow&rsquo;s nose. However, I restrained him from rushing back, as I subtly
      felt I was wished to do, and he at length consented again to be led toward
      his hut.
    </p>
    <p>
      But now the woods person called out: &ldquo;You&rsquo;re forgetting all your
      pretties!&rdquo; By which I saw him to mean the fishing impedimenta he had
      placed on the dock. And most unreasonably at this Mr. Belknap-Jackson
      again turned upon me, wishing anew to be told if I had lost my wits and
      directing me to fetch the stuff. Again I was conscious of that within me
      which no gentleman&rsquo;s man should confess to. I mean to say, I felt like
      shaking him. But I hastened back to fetch the rod, the creel, the luncheon
      hamper, the midge ointment, the camera, and other articles which the woods
      fellow handed me.
    </p>
    <p>
      With these somewhat awkwardly carried, I returned to our still turbulent
      host. More like a volcano he was than a man who has had a narrow squeak
      from drowning, and before we had gone a dozen feet more he again turned
      and declared he would &ldquo;go back and thrash the unspeakable cad within an
      inch of his life.&rdquo; Their relative sizes rendering an attempt of this sort
      quite too unwise, I was conscious of renewed irritation toward him;
      indeed, the vulgar words, &ldquo;Oh, stow that piffle!&rdquo; swiftly formed in the
      back of my mind, but again I controlled myself, as the chap was now
      sneezing violently.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Best hurry on, sir,&rdquo; I said with exemplary tact. &ldquo;One might contract a
      severe head-cold from such a wetting,&rdquo; and further endeavoured to sooth
      him while I started ahead to lead him away from the fellow. Then there
      happened that which fulfilled my direst premonitions. Looking back from a
      moment of calm, the psychology of the crisis is of a rudimentary
      simplicity.
    </p>
    <p>
      Enraged beyond measure at the woods person, Mr. Belknap-Jackson yet
      retained a fine native caution which counselled him to attempt no violence
      upon that offender; but his mental tension was such that it could be
      relieved only by his attacking some one; preferably some one forbidden to
      retaliate. I walked there temptingly but a pace ahead of him, after my
      well-meant word of advice.
    </p>
    <p>
      I make no defence of my own course. I am aware there can be none. I can
      only plead that I had already been vexed not a little by his unjust
      accusations of stupidity, and dismiss with as few words as possible an
      incident that will ever seem to me quite too indecently criminal. Briefly,
      then, with my well-intended &ldquo;Best not lower yourself, sir,&rdquo; Mr.
      Belknap-Jackson forgot himself and I forgot myself. It will be recalled
      that I was in front of him, but I turned rather quickly. (His belongings I
      had carried were widely disseminated.)
    </p>
    <p>
      Instantly there were wild outcries from the others, who had started toward
      the main, or living house.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s killed Charles!&rdquo; I heard Mrs. Belknap-Jackson scream; then came the
      deep-chested rumble of the Mixer, &ldquo;Jackson kicked him first!&rdquo; They ran for
      us. They had reached us while our host was down, even while my fist was
      still clenched. Now again the unfortunate man cried &ldquo;Help!&rdquo; as his wife
      assisted him to his feet.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Send for an officer!&rdquo; cried she.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The man&rsquo;s an anarchist!&rdquo; shouted her husband.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Nonsense!&rdquo; boomed the Mixer. &ldquo;Jackson got what he was looking for. Do it
      myself if he kicked me!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Oh, Maw! Oh, Mater!&rdquo; cried her daughter tearfully.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Gee! He done it in one punch!&rdquo; I heard Cousin Egbert say with what I was
      aghast to suspect was admiration.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mrs. Effie, trembling, could but glare at me and gasp. Mercifully she was
      beyond speech for the moment.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mr. Belknap-Jackson was now painfully rubbing his right eye, which was not
      what he should have done, and I said as much.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Beg pardon, sir, but one does better with a bit of raw beef.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;How dare you, you great hulking brute!&rdquo; cried his wife, and made as if to
      shield her husband from another attack from me, which I submit was unjust.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Bill&rsquo;s right,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert casually. &ldquo;Put a piece of raw steak on
      it. Gee! with one wallop!&rdquo; And then, quite strangely, for a moment we all
      amiably discussed whether cold compresses might not be better. Presently
      our host was led off by his wife. Mrs. Effie followed them, moaning: &ldquo;Oh,
      oh, oh!&rdquo; in the keenest distress.
    </p>
    <p>
      At this I took to my own room in dire confusion, making no doubt I would
      presently be given in charge and left to languish in gaol, perhaps given
      six months&rsquo; hard.
    </p>
    <p>
      Cousin Egbert came to me in a little while and laughed heartily at my fear
      that anything legal would be done. He also made some ill-timed compliments
      on the neatness of the blow I had dealt Mr. Belknap-Jackson, but these I
      found in wretched taste and was begging him to desist, when the Mixer
      entered and began to speak much in the same strain.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you ever dare do a thing like that again,&rdquo; she warned me, &ldquo;unless I
      got a ringside seat,&rdquo; to which I remained severely silent, for I felt my
      offence should not be made light of.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Three rousing cheers!&rdquo; exclaimed Cousin Egbert, whereat the two most
      unfeelingly went through a vivid pantomime of cheering.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our host, I understood, had his dinner in bed that night, and throughout
      the evening, as I sat solitary in remorse, came the mocking strains of
      another of their American folksongs with the refrain:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
    &ldquo;You made me what I am to-day,
    I hope you&rsquo;re satisfied!&rdquo;
 </pre>
    <p>
      I conceived it to be the Mixer and Cousin Egbert who did this and,
      considering the plight of our host, I thought it in the worst possible
      taste. I had raised my hand against the one American I had met who was at
      all times vogue. And not only this: For I now recalled a certain phrase I
      had flung out as I stood over him, ranting indeed no better than an
      anarchist, a phrase which showed my poor culture to be the flimsiest
      veneer.
    </p>
    <p>
      Late in the night, as I lay looking back on the frightful scene, I
      recalled with wonder a swift picture of Cousin Egbert caught as I once
      looked back to the dock. He had most amazingly shaken the woods person by
      the hand, quickly but with marked cordiality. And yet I am quite certain
      he had never been presented to the fellow.
    </p>
    <p>
      Promptly the next morning came the dreaded summons to meet Mrs. Effie. I
      was of course prepared to accept instant dismissal without a character, if
      indeed I were not to be given in charge. I found her wearing an expression
      of the utmost sternness, erect and formidable by the now silent
      phonograph. Cousin Egbert, who was present, also wore an expression of
      sternness, though I perceived him to wink at me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I really don&rsquo;t know what we&rsquo;re to do with you, Ruggles,&rdquo; began the
      stricken woman, and so done out she plainly was that I at once felt the
      warmest sympathy for her as she continued: &ldquo;First you lead poor Cousin
      Egbert into a drunken debauch&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Cousin Egbert here coughed nervously and eyed me with strong condemnation.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&mdash;then you behave like a murderer. What have you to say for
      yourself?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      At this I saw there was little I could say, except that I had coarsely
      given way to the brute in me, and yet I knew I should try to explain.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I dare say, Madam, it may have been because Mr. Belknap-Jackson was quite
      sober at the unfortunate moment.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Of course Charles was sober. The idea! What of it?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I was remembering an occasion at Chaynes-Wotten when Lord Ivor Cradleigh
      behaved toward me somewhat as Mr. Belknap-Jackson did last night and when
      my own deportment was quite all that could be wished. It occurs to me now
      that it was because his lordship was, how shall I say?&mdash;quite far
      gone in liquor at the time, so that I could without loss of dignity pass
      it off as a mere prank. Indeed, he regarded it as such himself, performing
      the act with a good nature that I found quite irresistible, and I am
      certain that neither his lordship nor I have ever thought the less of each
      other because of it. I revert to this merely to show that I have not
      always acted in a ruffianly manner under these circumstances. It seems
      rather to depend upon how the thing is done&mdash;the mood of the
      performer&mdash;his mental state. Had Mr. Belknap-Jackson been&mdash;pardon
      me&mdash;quite drunk, I feel that the outcome would have been happier for
      us all. So far as I have thought along these lines, it seems to me that if
      one is to be kicked at all, one must be kicked good-naturedly. I mean to
      say, with a certain camaraderie, a lightness, a gayety, a genuine
      good-will that for the moment expresses itself uncouthly&mdash;an element,
      I regret to say, that was conspicuously lacking from the brief activities
      of Mr. Belknap-Jackson.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I never heard such crazy talk,&rdquo; responded Mrs. Effie, &ldquo;and really I never
      saw such a man as you are for wanting people to become disgustingly drunk.
      You made poor Cousin Egbert and Jeff Tuttle act like beasts, and now
      nothing will satisfy you but that Charles should roll in the gutter. Such
      dissipated talk I never did hear, and poor Charles rarely taking anything
      but a single glass of wine, it upsets him so; even our reception punch he
      finds too stimulating!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I mean to say, the woman had cleanly missed my point, for never have I
      advocated the use of fermented liquors to excess; but I saw it was no good
      trying to tell her this.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And the worst of it,&rdquo; she went rapidly on, &ldquo;Cousin Egbert here is acting
      stranger than I ever knew him to act. He swears if he can&rsquo;t keep you he&rsquo;ll
      never have another man, and you know yourself what that means in his case&mdash;and
      Mrs. Pettengill saying she means to employ you herself if we let you go.
      Heaven knows what the poor woman can be thinking of! Oh, it&rsquo;s awful&mdash;and
      everything was going so beautifully. Of course Charles would simply never
      be brought to accept an apology&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I am only too anxious to make one,&rdquo; I submitted.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Here&rsquo;s the poor fellow now,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert almost gleefully, and our
      host entered. He carried a patch over his right eye and was not attired
      for sport on the lake, but in a dark morning suit of quietly beautiful
      lines that I thought showed a fine sense of the situation. He shot me one
      superior glance from his left eye and turned to Mrs. Effie.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I see you still harbour the ruffian?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve just given him a call-down,&rdquo; said Mrs. Effie, plainly ill at ease,
      &ldquo;and he says it was all because you were sober; that if you&rsquo;d been in the
      state Lord Ivor Cradleigh was the time it happened at Chaynes-Wotten he
      wouldn&rsquo;t have done anything to you, probably.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s this, what&rsquo;s this? Lord Ivor Cradleigh&mdash;Chaynes-Wotten?&rdquo; The
      man seemed to be curiously interested by the mere names, in spite of
      himself. &ldquo;His lordship was at Chaynes-Wotten for the shooting, I suppose?&rdquo;
       This, most amazingly, to me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A house party at Whitsuntide, sir,&rdquo; I explained.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ah! And you say his lordship was&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Oh, quite, quite in his cups, sir. If I might explain, it was that, sir&mdash;its
      being done under circumstances and in a certain entirely genial spirit of
      irritation to which I could take no offence, sir. His lordship is a very
      decent sort, sir. I&rsquo;ve known him intimately for years.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Dear, dear!&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;Too bad, too bad! And I dare say you thought me
      out of temper last night? Nothing of the sort. You should have taken it in
      quite the same spirit as you did from Lord Ivor Cradleigh.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It seemed different, sir,&rdquo; I said firmly. &ldquo;If I may take the liberty of
      putting it so, I felt quite offended by your manner. I missed from it at
      the most critical moment, as one might say, a certain urbanity that I
      found in his lordship, sir.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, well, well! It&rsquo;s too bad, really. I&rsquo;m quite aware that I show a
      sort of brusqueness at times, but mind you, it&rsquo;s all on the surface. Had
      you known me as long as you&rsquo;ve known his lordship, I dare say you&rsquo;d have
      noticed the same rough urbanity in me as well. I rather fancy some of us
      over here don&rsquo;t do those things so very differently. A few of us, at
      least.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad, indeed, to hear it, sir. It&rsquo;s only necessary to understand that
      there is a certain mood in which one really cannot permit one&rsquo;s self to be&mdash;you
      perceive, I trust.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Perfectly, perfectly,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;and I can only express my regret that
      you should have mistaken my own mood, which, I am confident, was exactly
      the thing his lordship might have felt.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I gladly accept your apology, sir,&rdquo; I returned quickly, &ldquo;as I should have
      accepted his lordship&rsquo;s had his manner permitted any misapprehension on my
      part. And in return I wish to apologize most contritely for the phrase I
      applied to you just after it happened, sir. I rarely use strong language,
      but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I remember hearing none,&rdquo; said he.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I regret to say, sir, that I called you a blighted little mug&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You needn&rsquo;t have mentioned it,&rdquo; he replied with just a trace of
      sharpness, &ldquo;and I trust that in future&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I am sure, sir, that in future you will give me no occasion to
      misunderstand your intentions&mdash;no more than would his lordship,&rdquo; I
      added as he raised his brows.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thus in a manner wholly unexpected was a frightful situation eased off.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m so glad it&rsquo;s settled!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Effie, who had listened almost
      breathlessly to our exchange.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I fancy I settled it as Cradleigh would have&mdash;eh, Ruggles?&rdquo; And the
      man actually smiled at me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Entirely so, sir,&rdquo; said I.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;If only it doesn&rsquo;t get out,&rdquo; said Mrs. Effie now. &ldquo;We shouldn&rsquo;t want it
      known in Red Gap. Think of the talk!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; rejoined Mr. Belknap-Jackson jauntily, &ldquo;we are all here above
      gossip about an affair of that sort. I am sure&mdash;&rdquo; He broke off and
      looked uneasily at Cousin Egbert, who coughed into his hand and looked out
      over the lake before he spoke.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What would I want to tell a thing like that for?&rdquo; he demanded
      indignantly, as if an accusation had been made against him. But I saw his
      eyes glitter with an evil light.
    </p>
    <p>
      An hour later I chanced to be with him in our detached hut, when the Mixer
      entered.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What happened?&rdquo; she demanded.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What do you reckon happened?&rdquo; returned Cousin Egbert. &ldquo;They get to
      talking about Lord Ivy Craddles, or some guy, and before we know it Mr.
      Belknap Hyphen Jackson is apologizing to Bill here.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No?&rdquo; bellowed the Mixer.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Sure did he!&rdquo; affirmed Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      Here they grasped each other&rsquo;s arms and did a rude native dance about the
      room, nor did they desist when I sought to explain that the name was not
      at all Ivy Craddles.
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER SEVEN
    </h2>
    <p>
      Now once more it seemed that for a time I might lead a sanely ordered
      existence. Not for long did I hope it. I think I had become resigned to
      the unending series of shocks that seemed to compose the daily life in
      North America. Few had been my peaceful hours since that fatal evening in
      Paris. And the shocks had become increasingly violent. When I tried to
      picture what the next might be I found myself shuddering. For the present,
      like a stag that has eluded the hounds but hears their distant baying, I
      lay panting in momentary security, gathering breath for some new course. I
      mean to say, one couldn&rsquo;t tell what might happen next. Again and again I
      found myself coming all over frightened.
    </p>
    <p>
      Wholly restored I was now in the esteem of Mr. Belknap-Jackson, who never
      tired of discussing with me our own life and people. Indeed he was quite
      the most intelligent foreigner I had encountered. I may seem to exaggerate
      in the American fashion, but I doubt if a single one of the others could
      have named the counties of England or the present Lord Mayor of London.
      Our host was not like that. Also he early gave me to know that he felt
      quite as we do concerning the rebellion of our American colonies, holding
      it a matter for the deepest regret; and justly proud he was of the
      circumstance that at the time of that rebellion his own family had put all
      possible obstacles in the way of the traitorous Washington. To be sure, I
      dare say he may have boasted a bit in this.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was during the long journey across America which we now set out upon
      that I came to this sympathetic understanding of his character and of the
      chagrin he constantly felt at being compelled to live among people with
      whom he could have as little sympathy as I myself had.
    </p>
    <p>
      This journey began pleasantly enough, and through the farming counties of
      Philadelphia, Ohio, and Chicago was not without interest. Beyond came an
      incredibly large region, much like the steppes of Siberia, I fancy: vast
      uninhabited stretches of heath and down, with but here and there some rude
      settlement about which the poor peasants would eagerly assemble as our
      train passed through. I could not wonder that our own travellers have
      always spoken so disparagingly of the American civilization. It is a
      country that would never do with us.
    </p>
    <p>
      Although we lived in this train a matter of nearly four days, I fancy not
      a single person dressed for dinner as one would on shipboard. Even
      Belknap-Jackson dined in a lounge-suit, though he wore gloves constantly
      by day, which was more than I could get Cousin Egbert to do.
    </p>
    <p>
      As we went ever farther over these leagues of fen and fell and rolling
      veldt, I could but speculate unquietly as to what sort of place the Red
      Gap must be. A residential town for gentlemen and families, I had
      understood, with a little colony of people that really mattered, as I had
      gathered from Mrs. Effie. And yet I was unable to divine their object in
      going so far away to live. One goes to distant places for the winter
      sports or for big game shooting, but this seemed rather grotesquely
      perverse.
    </p>
    <p>
      Little did I then dream of the spiritual agencies that were to insure my
      gradual understanding of the town and its people. Unsuspectingly I fronted
      a future so wildly improbable that no power could have made me credit it
      had it then been foretold by the most rarely endowed gypsy. It is always
      now with a sort of terror that I look back to those last moments before my
      destiny had unfolded far enough to be actually alarming. I was as one
      floating in fancied security down the calm river above their famous
      Niagara Falls&mdash;to be presently dashed without warning over the
      horrible verge. I mean to say, I never suspected.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our last day of travel arrived. We were now in a roughened and most untidy
      welter of mountain and jungle and glen, with violent tarns and bleak bits
      of moorland that had all too evidently never known the calming touch of
      the landscape gardener; a region, moreover, peopled by a much more lawless
      appearing peasantry than I had observed back in the Chicago counties,
      people for the most part quite wretchedly gotten up and distinctly of the
      lower or working classes.
    </p>
    <p>
      Late in the afternoon our train wound out of a narrow cutting and into a
      valley that broadened away on every hand to distant mountains. Beyond
      doubt this prospect could, in a loose way of speaking, be called scenery,
      but of too violent a character it was for cultivated tastes. Then, as my
      eye caught the vague outlines of a settlement or village in the midst of
      this valley, Cousin Egbert, who also looked from, the coach window, amazed
      me by crying out:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;There she is&mdash;little old Red Gap! The fastest growing town in the
      State, if any one should ask you.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir; I&rsquo;ll try to remember, sir,&rdquo; I said, wondering why I should be
      asked this.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Garden spot of the world,&rdquo; he added in a kind of ecstasy, to which I made
      no response, for this was too preposterous. Nearing the place our train
      passed an immense hoarding erected by the roadway, a score of feet high, I
      should say, and at least a dozen times as long, upon which was emblazoned
      in mammoth red letters on a black ground, &ldquo;<i>Keep Your Eye on Red Gap!</i>&rdquo;
       At either end of this lettering was painted a gigantic staring human eye.
      Regarding this monstrosity with startled interest, I heard myself
      addressed by Belknap-Jackson:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The sort of vulgarity I&rsquo;m obliged to contend with,&rdquo; said he, with a
      contemptuous gesture toward the hoarding. Indeed the thing lacked
      refinement in its diction, while the painted eyes were not Art in any true
      sense of the word. &ldquo;The work of our precious Chamber of Commerce,&rdquo; he
      added, &ldquo;though I pleaded with them for days and days.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a sort of thing would never do with us, sir,&rdquo; I said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s what one has to expect from a commercialized bourgeoise,&rdquo; he
      returned bitterly. &ldquo;And even our association, &lsquo;The City Beautiful,&rsquo; of
      which I was president, helped to erect the thing. Of course I resigned at
      once.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Naturally, sir; the colours are atrocious.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And the words a mere blatant boast!&rdquo; He groaned and left me, for we were
      now well into a suburb of detached villas, many of them of a squalid
      character, and presently we had halted at the station. About this bleak
      affair was the usual gathering of peasantry and the common people,
      villagers, agricultural labourers, and the like, and these at once showed
      a tremendous interest in our party, many of them hailing various members
      of us with a quite offensive familiarity.
    </p>
    <p>
      Belknap-Jackson, of course, bore himself through this with a proper
      aloofness, as did his wife and Mrs. Effie, but I heard the Mixer booming
      salutations right and left. It was Cousin Egbert, however, who most
      embarrassed me by the freedom of his manner with these persons. He shook
      hands warmly with at least a dozen of them and these hailed him with rude
      shouts, dealt him smart blows on the back and, forming a circle about him,
      escorted him to a carriage where Mrs. Effie and I awaited him. Here the
      driver, a loutish and familiar youth, also seized his hand and, with some
      crude effect of oratory, shouted to the crowd.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter with Sour-dough?&rdquo; To this, with a flourish of their
      impossible hats, they quickly responded in unison,
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s all right!&rdquo; accenting the first word terrifically.
    </p>
    <p>
      Then, to the immense relief of Mrs. Effie and myself, he was released and
      we were driven quickly off from the raffish set. Through their Regent and
      Bond streets we went, though I mean to say they were on an unbelievably
      small or village scale, to an outlying region of detached villas that
      doubtless would be their St. John&rsquo;s Wood, but my efforts to observe
      closely were distracted by the extraordinary freedom with which our driver
      essayed to chat with us, saying he &ldquo;guessed&rdquo; we were glad to get back to
      God&rsquo;s country, and things of a similar intimate nature. This was even more
      embarrassing to Mrs. Effie than it was to me, since she more than once
      felt obliged to answer the fellow with a feigned cordiality.
    </p>
    <p>
      Relieved I was when we drew up before the town house of the Flouds. Set
      well back from the driveway in a faded stretch of common, it was of rather
      a garbled architecture, with the Tudor, late Gothic, and French
      Renaissance so intermixed that one was puzzled to separate the periods.
      Nor was the result so vast as this might sound. Hardly would the thing
      have made a wing of the manor house at Chaynes-Wotten. The common or small
      park before it was shielded from the main thoroughfare by a fence of iron
      palings, and back of this on either side of a gravelled walk that led to
      the main entrance were two life-sized stags not badly sculptured from
      metal.
    </p>
    <p>
      Once inside I began to suspect that my position was going to be more than
      a bit dicky. I mean to say, it was not an establishment in our sense of
      the word, being staffed, apparently, by two China persons who performed
      the functions of cook, housemaids, footmen, butler, and housekeeper. There
      was not even a billiard room.
    </p>
    <p>
      During the ensuing hour, marked by the arrival of our luggage and the
      unpacking of boxes, I meditated profoundly over the difficulties of my
      situation. In a wilderness, beyond the confines of civilization, I would
      undoubtedly be compelled to endure the hardships of the pioneer; yet for
      the present I resolved to let no inkling of my dismay escape.
    </p>
    <p>
      The evening meal over&mdash;dinner in but the barest technical sense&mdash;I
      sat alone in my own room, meditating thus darkly. Nor was I at all cheered
      by the voice of Cousin Egbert, who sang in his own room adjoining. I had
      found this to be a habit of his, and his songs are always dolorous to the
      last degree. Now, for example, while life seemed all too black to me, he
      sang a favourite of his, the pathetic ballad of two small children
      evidently begging in a business thoroughfare:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
    &ldquo;Lone and weary through the streets we wander,
      For we have no place to lay our head;
    Not a friend is left on earth to shelter us,
      For both our parents now are dead.&rdquo;
 </pre>
    <p>
      It was a fair crumpler in my then mood. It made me wish to be out of North
      America&mdash;made me long for London; London with a yellow fog and its
      greasy pavements, where one knew what to apprehend. I wanted him to stop,
      but still he atrociously sang in his high, cracked voice:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
    &ldquo;Dear mother died when we were both young,
      And father built for us a home,
    But now he&rsquo;s killed by falling timbers,
      And we are left here all alone.&rdquo;
 </pre>
    <p>
      I dare say I should have rushed madly into the night had there been
      another verse, but now he was still. A moment later, however, he entered
      my room with the suggestion that I stroll about the village streets with
      him, he having a mission to perform for Mrs. Effie. I had already heard
      her confide this to him. He was to proceed to the office of their
      newspaper and there leave with the press chap a notice of our arrival
      which from day to day she had been composing on the train.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I just got to leave this here piece for the <i>Recorder</i>,&rdquo; he said;
      &ldquo;then we can sasshay up and down for a while and meet some of the boys.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      How profoundly may our whole destiny be affected by the mood of an idle
      moment; by some superficial indecision, mere fruit of a transient unrest.
      We lightly debate, we hesitate, we yawn, unconscious of the brink. We
      half-heartedly decline a suggested course, then lightly accept from sheer
      ennui, and &ldquo;life,&rdquo; as I have read in a quite meritorious poem, &ldquo;is never
      the same again.&rdquo; It was thus I now toyed there with my fate in my hands,
      as might a child have toyed with a bauble. I mean to say, I was looking
      for nothing thick.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;She&rsquo;s wrote a very fancy piece for that newspaper,&rdquo; Cousin Egbert went
      on, handing me the sheets of manuscript. Idly I glanced down the pages.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yesterday saw the return to Red Gap of Mrs. Senator James Knox Floud and
      Egbert G. Floud from their extensive European tour,&rdquo; it began. Farther I
      caught vagrant lines, salient phrases: &ldquo;&mdash;the well-known social
      leader of our North Side set ... planning a series of entertainments for
      the approaching social season that promise to eclipse all previous
      gayeties of Red Gap&rsquo;s smart set ... holding the reins of social leadership
      with a firm grasp ... distinguished for her social graces and tact as a
      hostess ... their palatial home on Ophir Avenue, the scene of so much of
      the smart social life that has distinguished our beautiful city.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      It left me rather unmoved from my depression, even the concluding note:
      &ldquo;The Flouds are accompanied by their English manservant, secured through
      the kind offices of the brother of his lordship Earl of Brinstead, the
      well-known English peer, who will no doubt do much to impart to the coming
      functions that air of smartness which distinguishes the highest social
      circles of London, Paris, and other capitals of the great world of
      fashion.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Some mess of words, that,&rdquo; observed Cousin Egbert, and it did indeed seem
      to be rather intimately phrased.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Better come along with me,&rdquo; he again urged. There was a moment&rsquo;s fateful
      silence, then, quite mechanically, I arose and prepared to accompany him.
      In the hall below I handed him his evening stick and gloves, which he
      absently took from me, and we presently traversed that street of houses
      much in the fashion of the Floud house and nearly all boasting some
      sculptured bit of wild life on their terraces.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was a calm night of late summer; all Nature seemed at peace. I looked
      aloft and reflected that the same stars were shining upon the civilization
      I had left so far behind. As we walked I lost myself in musing pensively
      upon this curious astronomical fact and upon the further vicissitudes to
      which I would surely be exposed. I compared myself whimsically to an
      explorer chap who has ventured among a tribe of natives and who must seem
      to adopt their weird manners and customs to save himself from their
      fanatic violence.
    </p>
    <p>
      From this I was aroused by Cousin Egbert, who, with sudden dismay
      regarding his stick and gloves, uttered a low cry of anguish and thrust
      them into my hands before I had divined his purpose.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll have to tote them there things,&rdquo; he swiftly explained. &ldquo;I forgot
      where I was.&rdquo; I demurred sharply, but he would not listen.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t mind it so much in Paris and Europe, where I ain&rsquo;t so very well
      known, but my good gosh! man, this is my home town. You&rsquo;ll have to take
      them. People won&rsquo;t notice it in you so much, you being a foreigner,
      anyway.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Without further objection I wearily took them, finding a desperate
      drollery in being regarded as a foreigner, whereas I was simply alone
      among foreigners; but I knew that Cousin Egbert lacked the subtlety to
      grasp this point of view and made no effort to lay it before him. It was
      clear to me then, I think, that he would forever remain socially
      impossible, though perhaps no bad sort from a mere human point of view.
    </p>
    <p>
      We continued our stroll, turning presently from this residential avenue to
      a street of small unlighted shops, and from this into a wider and
      brilliantly lighted thoroughfare of larger shops, where my companion
      presently began to greet native acquaintances. And now once more he
      affected that fashion of presenting me to his friends that I had so
      deplored in Paris. His own greeting made, he would call out heartily:
      &ldquo;Shake hands with my friend Colonel Ruggles!&rdquo; Nor would he heed my
      protests at this, so that in sheer desperation I presently ceased making
      them, reflecting that after all we were encountering the street classes of
      the town.
    </p>
    <p>
      At a score of such casual meetings I was thus presented, for he seemed to
      know quite almost every one and at times there would be a group of natives
      about us on the pavement. Twice we went into &ldquo;saloons,&rdquo; as they rather
      pretentiously style their public houses, where Cousin Egbert would stand
      the drinks for all present, not omitting each time to present me formally
      to the bar-man. In all these instances I was at once asked what I thought
      of their town, which was at first rather embarrassing, as I was confident
      that any frank disclosure of my opinion, being necessarily hurried, might
      easily be misunderstood. I at length devised a conventional formula of
      praise which, although feeling a frightful fool, I delivered each time
      thereafter.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thus we progressed the length of their commercial centre, the incidents
      varying but little.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Hello, Sour-dough, you old shellback! When did you come off the trail?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Just got in. My lands! but it&rsquo;s good to be back. Billy, shake hands with
      my friend Colonel Ruggles.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I mean to say, the persons were not all named &ldquo;Billy,&rdquo; that being used
      only by way of illustration. Sometimes they would be called &ldquo;Doc&rdquo; or
      &ldquo;Hank&rdquo; or &ldquo;Al&rdquo; or &ldquo;Chris.&rdquo; Nor was my companion invariably called &ldquo;shellback.&rdquo;
       &ldquo;Horned-toad&rdquo; and &ldquo;Stinging-lizard&rdquo; were also epithets much in favour with
      his friends.
    </p>
    <p>
      At the end of this street we at length paused before the office, as I saw,
      of &ldquo;The Red Gap <i>Recorder</i>; Daily and Weekly.&rdquo; Cousin Egbert entered
      here, but came out almost at once.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Henshaw ain&rsquo;t there, and she said I got to be sure and give him this here
      piece personally; so come on. He&rsquo;s up to a lawn-feet.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A social function, sir?&rdquo; I asked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No; just a lawn-feet up in Judge Ballard&rsquo;s front yard to raise money for
      new uniforms for the band&mdash;that&rsquo;s what the boy said in there.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But would it not be highly improper for me to appear there, sir?&rdquo; I at
      once objected. &ldquo;I fear it&rsquo;s not done, sir.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Shucks!&rdquo; he insisted, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t talk foolish that way. You&rsquo;re a peach of a
      little mixer all right. Come on! Everybody goes. They&rsquo;ll even let me in. I
      can give this here piece to Henshaw and then we&rsquo;ll spend a little money to
      help the band-boys along.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      My misgivings were by no means dispelled, yet as the affair seemed to be
      public rather than smart, I allowed myself to be led on.
    </p>
    <p>
      Into another street of residences we turned, and after a brisk walk I was
      able to identify the &ldquo;front yard&rdquo; of which my companion had spoken. The
      strains of an orchestra came to us and from the trees and shrubbery
      gleamed the lights of paper lanterns. I could discern tents and marquees,
      a throng of people moving among them. Nearer, I observed a refreshment
      pavilion and a dancing platform.
    </p>
    <p>
      Reaching the gate, Cousin Egbert paid for us an entrance fee of two
      shillings to a young lady in gypsy costume whom he greeted cordially as
      Beryl Mae, not omitting to present me to her as Colonel Ruggles.
    </p>
    <p>
      We moved into the thick of the crowd. There was much laughter and hearty
      speech, and it at once occurred to me that Cousin Egbert had been right:
      it would not be an assemblage of people that mattered, but rather of small
      tradesmen, artisans, tenant-farmers and the like with whom I could
      properly mingle.
    </p>
    <p>
      My companion was greeted by several of the throng, to whom he in turn
      presented me, among them after a bit to a slight, reddish-bearded person
      wearing thick nose-glasses whom I understood to be the pressman we were in
      search of. Nervous of manner he was and preoccupied with a notebook in
      which he frantically scribbled items from time to time. Yet no sooner was
      I presented to him than he began a quizzing sort of conversation with me
      that lasted near a half-hour, I should say. Very interested he seemed to
      hear of my previous life, having in full measure that naïve curiosity
      about one which Americans take so little pains to hide. Like the other
      natives I had met that evening, he was especially concerned to know what I
      thought of Red Gap. The chat was not at all unpleasant, as he seemed to be
      a well-informed person, and it was not without regret that I noted the
      approach of Cousin Egbert in company with a pleasant-faced, middle-aged
      lady in Oriental garb, carrying a tambourine.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Mrs. Ballard, allow me to make you acquainted with my friend Colonel
      Ruggles!&rdquo; Thus Cousin Egbert performed his ceremony. The lady grasped my
      hand with great cordiality.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You men have monopolized the Colonel long enough,&rdquo; she began with a large
      coquetry that I found not unpleasing, and firmly grasping my arm she led
      me off in the direction of the refreshment pavilion, where I was playfully
      let to know that I should purchase her bits of refreshment, coffee,
      plum-cake, an ice, things of that sort. Through it all she kept up a
      running fire of banter, from time to time presenting me to other women
      young and old who happened about us, all of whom betrayed an interest in
      my personality that was not unflattering, even from this commoner sort of
      the town&rsquo;s people.
    </p>
    <p>
      Nor would my new friend release me when she had refreshed herself, but had
      it that I must dance with her. I had now to confess that I was unskilled
      in the native American folk dances which I had observed being performed,
      whereupon she briskly chided me for my backwardness, but commanded a valse
      from the musicians, and this we danced together.
    </p>
    <p>
      I may here say that I am not without a certain finesse on the
      dancing-floor and I rather enjoyed the momentary abandon with this village
      worthy. Indeed I had rather enjoyed the whole affair, though I felt that
      my manner was gradually marking me as one apart from the natives; made
      conscious I was of a more finished, a suaver formality in myself&mdash;the
      Mrs. Ballard I had met came at length to be by way of tapping me
      coquettishly with her tambourine in our lighter moments. Also my presence
      increasingly drew attention, more and more of the village belles and
      matrons demanding in their hearty way to be presented to me. Indeed the
      society was vastly more enlivening, I reflected, than I had found it in a
      similar walk of life at home.
    </p>
    <p>
      Rather regretfully I left with Cousin Egbert, who found me at last in one
      of the tents having my palm read by the gypsy young person who had taken
      our fees at the gate. Of course I am aware that she was probably without
      any real gifts for this science, as so few are who undertake it at charity
      bazaars, yet she told me not a few things that were significant: that my
      somewhat cold exterior and air of sternness were but a mask to shield a
      too-impulsive nature; that I possessed great firmness of character and was
      fond of Nature. She added peculiarly at the last &ldquo;I see trouble ahead, but
      you are not to be downcast&mdash;the skies will brighten.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      It was at this point that Cousin Egbert found me, and after he had warned
      the young woman that I was &ldquo;some mixer&rdquo; we departed. Not until we had
      reached the Floud home did he discover that he had quite forgotten to hand
      the press-chap Mrs. Effie&rsquo;s manuscript.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Dog on the luck!&rdquo; said he in his quaint tone of exasperation, &ldquo;here I&rsquo;ve
      went and forgot to give Mrs. Effie&rsquo;s piece to the editor.&rdquo; He sighed
      ruefully. &ldquo;Well, to-morrow&rsquo;s another day.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      And so the die was cast. To-morrow was indeed another day!
    </p>
    <p>
      Yet I fell asleep on a memory of the evening that brought me a sort of
      shamed pleasure&mdash;that I had falsely borne the stick and gloves of
      Cousin Egbert. I knew they had given me rather an air.
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER EIGHT
    </h2>
    <p>
      I have never been able to recall the precise moment the next morning when
      I began to feel a strange disquietude but the opening hours of the day
      were marked by a series of occurrences slight in themselves yet so
      cumulatively ominous that they seemed to lower above me like a cloud of
      menace.
    </p>
    <p>
      Looking from my window, shortly after the rising hour, I observed a paper
      boy pass through the street, whistling a popular melody as he ran up to
      toss folded journals into doorways. Something I cannot explain went
      through me even then; some premonition of disaster slinking furtively
      under my casual reflection that even in this remote wild the public press
      was not unknown.
    </p>
    <p>
      Half an hour later the telephone rang in a lower room and I heard Mrs.
      Effie speak in answer. An unusual note in her voice caused me to listen
      more attentively. I stepped outside my door. To some one she was
      expressing amazement, doubt, and quick impatience which seemed to
      culminate, after she had again, listened, in a piercing cry of
      consternation. The term is not too strong. Evidently by the unknown
      speaker she had been first puzzled, then startled, then horrified; and
      now, as her anguished cry still rang in my ears, that snaky premonition of
      evil again writhed across my consciousness.
    </p>
    <p>
      Presently I heard the front door open and close. Peering into the hallway
      below I saw that she had secured the newspaper I had seen dropped. Her own
      door now closed upon her. I waited, listening intently. Something told me
      that the incident was not closed. A brief interval elapsed and she was
      again at the telephone, excitedly demanding to be put through to a number.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Come at once!&rdquo; I heard her cry. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s unspeakable! There isn&rsquo;t a moment
      to lose! Come as you are!&rdquo; Hereupon, banging the receiver into its place
      with frenzied roughness, she ran halfway up the stairs to shout:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Egbert Floud! Egbert Floud! You march right down here this minute, sir!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      From his room I heard an alarmed response, and a moment later knew that he
      had joined her. The door closed upon them, but high words reached me.
      Mostly the words of Mrs. Effie they were, though I could detect muffled
      retorts from the other. Wondering what this could portend, I noted from my
      window some ten minutes later the hurried arrival of the C.
      Belknap-Jacksons. The husband clenched a crumpled newspaper in one hand
      and both he and his wife betrayed signs to the trained eye of having
      performed hasty toilets for this early call.
    </p>
    <p>
      As the door of the drawing-room closed upon them there ensued a terrific
      outburst carrying a rich general effect of astounded rage. Some moments
      the sinister chorus continued, then a door sharply opened and I heard my
      own name cried out by Mrs. Effie in a tone that caused me to shudder.
      Rapidly descending the stairs, I entered the room to face the excited
      group. Cousin Egbert crouched on a sofa in a far corner like a hunted
      beast, but the others were standing, and all glared at me furiously.
    </p>
    <p>
      The ladies addressed me simultaneously, one of them, I believe, asking me
      what I meant by it and the other demanding how dared I, which had the sole
      effect of adding to my bewilderment, nor did the words of Cousin Egbert
      diminish this.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Hello, Bill!&rdquo; he called, adding with a sort of timid bravado: &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you
      let &lsquo;em bluff you, not for a minute!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, and it was probably all that wretched Cousin Egbert&rsquo;s fault in the
      first place,&rdquo; snapped Mrs. Belknap-Jackson almost tearfully.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Say, listen here, now; I don&rsquo;t see as how I&rsquo;ve done anything wrong,&rdquo; he
      feebly protested. &ldquo;Bill&rsquo;s human, ain&rsquo;t he? Answer me that!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;One sees it all!&rdquo; This from Belknap-Jackson in bitter and judicial tones.
      He flung out his hands at Cousin Egbert in a gesture of pitiless scorn. &ldquo;I
      dare say,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;that poor Ruggles was merely a tool in his hands&mdash;weak,
      possibly, but not vicious.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;May I inquire&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; I made bold to begin, but Mrs. Effie shut me
      off, brandishing the newspaper before me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Read it!&rdquo; she commanded in hoarse, tragic tones. &ldquo;There!&rdquo; she added,
      pointing at monstrous black headlines on the page as I weakly took it from
      her. And then I saw. There before them, divining now the enormity of what
      had come to pass, I controlled myself to master the following screed:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
    RED GAP&rsquo;S DISTINGUISHED VISITOR

    Colonel Marmaduke Ruggles of London and Paris, late of the
    British army, bon-vivant and man of the world, is in our midst
    for an indefinite stay, being at present the honoured house
    guest of Senator and Mrs. James Knox Floud, who returned from
    foreign parts on the 5:16 flyer yesterday afternoon. Colonel
    Ruggles has long been intimately associated with the family
    of his lordship the Earl of Brinstead, and especially with
    his lordship&rsquo;s brother, the Honourable George Augustus
    Vane-Basingwell, with whom he has recently been sojourning
    in la belle France. In a brief interview which the Colonel
    genially accorded ye scribe, he expressed himself as delighted
    with our thriving little city.

    &ldquo;It&rsquo;s somewhat a town&mdash;if I&rsquo;ve caught your American slang,&rdquo;
     he said with a merry twinkle in his eyes. &ldquo;You have the garden
    spot of the West, if not of the civilized world, and your
    people display a charm that must be, I dare say, typically
    American. Altogether, I am enchanted with the wonders I have
    beheld since landing at your New York, particularly with the
    habit your best people have of roughing it in camps like that
    of Mr. C. Belknap-Jackson among the mountains of New York, where
    I was most pleasantly entertained by himself and his delightful
    wife. The length of my stay among you is uncertain, though I
    have been pressed by the Flouds, with whom I am stopping, and
    by the C. Belknap-Jacksons to prolong it indefinitely, and in
    fact to identify myself to an extent with your social life.&rdquo;
 
    The Colonel is a man of distinguished appearance, with the
    seasoned bearing of an old campaigner, and though at moments
    he displays that cool reserve so typical of the English
    gentleman, evidence was not lacking last evening that he can
    unbend on occasion. At the lawn fête held in the spacious
    grounds of Judge Ballard, where a myriad Japanese lanterns
    made the scene a veritable fairyland, he was quite the most
    sought-after notable present, and gayly tripped the light
    fantastic toe with the élite of Red Gap&rsquo;s smart set there
    assembled.

    From his cordial manner of entering into the spirit of the
    affair we predict that Colonel Ruggles will be a decided
    acquisition to our social life, and we understand that a
    series of recherché entertainments in his honour has already
    been planned by Mrs. County Judge Ballard, who took the
    distinguished guest under her wing the moment he appeared
    last evening. Welcome to our city, Colonel! And may the warm
    hearts of Red Gap cause you to forget that European world of
    fashion of which you have long been so distinguished an
    ornament!
</pre>
    <p>
      In a sickening silence I finished the thing. As the absurd sheet fell from
      my nerveless fingers Mrs. Effie cried in a voice hoarse with emotion:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Do you realize the dreadful thing you&rsquo;ve done to us?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Speechless I was with humiliation, unequal even to protesting that I had
      said nothing of the sort to the press-chap. I mean to say, he had
      wretchedly twisted my harmless words.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Have you nothing to say for yourself?&rdquo; demanded Mrs. Belknap-Jackson,
      also in a voice hoarse with emotion. I glanced at her husband. He, too,
      was pale with anger and trembling, so that I fancied he dared not trust
      himself to speak.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The wretched man,&rdquo; declared Mrs. Effie, addressing them all, &ldquo;simply
      can&rsquo;t realize&mdash;how disgraceful it is. Oh, we shall never be able to
      live it down!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Imagine those flippant Spokane sheets dressing up the thing,&rdquo; hissed
      Belknap-Jackson, speaking for the first time. &ldquo;Imagine their blackguardly
      humour!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And that awful Cousin Egbert,&rdquo; broke in Mrs. Effie, pointing a desperate
      finger toward him. &ldquo;Think of the laughing-stock he&rsquo;ll become! Why, he&rsquo;ll
      simply never be able to hold up his head again.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Say, you listen here,&rdquo; exclaimed Cousin Egbert with sudden heat; &ldquo;never
      you mind about my head. I always been able to hold up my head any time I
      felt like it.&rdquo; And again to me he threw out, &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you let &lsquo;em bluff you,
      Bill!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I gave him a notice for the paper,&rdquo; explained Mrs. Effie plaintively;
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;d written it all nicely out to save them time in the office, and that
      would have prevented this disgrace, but he never gave it in.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I clean forgot it,&rdquo; declared the offender. &ldquo;What with one thing and
      another, and gassing back and forth with some o&rsquo; the boys, it kind of went
      out o&rsquo; my head.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Meeting our best people&mdash;actually dancing with them!&rdquo; murmured Mrs.
      Belknap-Jackson in a voice vibrant with horror. &ldquo;My dear, I truly am so
      sorry for you.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You people entertained him delightfully at your camp,&rdquo; murmured Mrs.
      Effie quickly in her turn, with a gesture toward the journal.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Oh, we&rsquo;re both in it, I know. I know. It&rsquo;s appalling!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll never be able to live it down!&rdquo; said Mrs. Effie. &ldquo;We shall have to
      go away somewhere.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you imagine what Jen&rsquo; Ballard will say when she learns the truth?&rdquo;
       asked the other bitterly. &ldquo;Say we did it on purpose to humiliate her, and
      just as all our little scraps were being smoothed out, so we could get
      together and put that Bohemian set in its place. Oh, it&rsquo;s so dreadful!&rdquo; On
      the verge of tears she seemed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And scarcely a word mentioned of our own return&mdash;when I&rsquo;d taken such
      pains with the notice!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Listen here!&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert brightly. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take the piece down now
      and he can print it in his paper for you to-morrow.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You can&rsquo;t understand,&rdquo; she replied impatiently. &ldquo;I casually mentioned our
      having brought an English manservant. Print that now and insult all our
      best people who received him!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Pathetic how little the poor chap understands,&rdquo; sighed Belknap-Jackson.
      &ldquo;No sense at all of our plight&mdash;naturally, naturally!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;A series of entertainments being planned in his honour!&rsquo;&rdquo; quavered Mrs.
      Belknap-Jackson.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;The most sought-after notable present!&rsquo;&rdquo; echoed Mrs. Effie viciously.
    </p>
    <p>
      Again and again I had essayed to protest my innocence, only to provoke
      renewed outbursts. I could but stand there with what dignity I retained
      and let them savage me. Cousin Egbert now spoke again:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Shucks! What&rsquo;s all the fuss? Just because I took Bill out and give him a
      good time! Didn&rsquo;t you say yourself in that there very piece that he&rsquo;d
      impart to coming functions an air of smartiness like they have all over
      Europe? Didn&rsquo;t you write them very words? And ain&rsquo;t he already done it the
      very first night he gets here, right at that there lawn-feet where I took
      him? What for do you jump on me then? I took him and he done it; he done
      it good. Bill&rsquo;s a born mixer. Why, he had all them North Side society
      dames stung the minute I flashed him; after him quicker than hell could
      scorch a feather; run out from under their hats to get introduced to him&mdash;and
      now you all turn on me like a passel of starved wolves.&rdquo; He finished with
      a note of genuine irritation I had never heard in his voice.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The poor creature&rsquo;s demented,&rdquo; remarked Mrs. Belknap-Jackson pityingly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Always been that way,&rdquo; said Mrs. Effie hopelessly.
    </p>
    <p>
      Belknap-Jackson contented himself with a mere clicking sound of
      commiseration.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;All right, then, if you&rsquo;re so smart,&rdquo; continued Cousin Egbert. &ldquo;Just the
      same Bill, here, is the most popular thing in the whole Kulanche Valley
      this minute, so all I got to say is if you want to play this here society
      game you better stick close by him. First thing you know, some o&rsquo; them
      other dames&rsquo;ll have him won from you. That Mis&rsquo; Ballard&rsquo;s going to invite
      him to supper or dinner or some other doings right away. I heard her say
      so.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      To my amazement a curious and prolonged silence greeted this amazing
      tirade. The three at length were regarding each other almost furtively.
      Belknap-Jackson began to pace the floor in deep thought.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;After all, no one knows except ourselves,&rdquo; he said in curiously hushed
      tones at last.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Of course it&rsquo;s one way out of a dreadful mess,&rdquo; observed his wife.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Colonel Marmaduke Ruggles of the British army,&rdquo; said Mrs. Effie in a
      peculiar tone, as if she were trying over a song.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It may indeed be the best way out of an impossible situation,&rdquo; continued
      Belknap-Jackson musingly. &ldquo;Otherwise we face a social upheaval that might
      leave us demoralized for years&mdash;say nothing of making us a
      laughingstock with the rabble. In fact, I see nothing else to be done.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Cousin Egbert would be sure to spoil it all again,&rdquo; objected Mrs. Effie,
      glaring at him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No danger,&rdquo; returned the other with his superior smile. &ldquo;Being quite
      unable to realize what has happened, he will be equally unable to realize
      what is going to happen. We may speak before him as before a babe in arms;
      the amenities of the situation are forever beyond him.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I guess I always been able to hold up my head when I felt like it,&rdquo; put
      in Cousin Egbert, now again both sullen and puzzled. Once more he threw
      out his encouragement to me: &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t let &lsquo;em run any bluffs, Bill! They
      can&rsquo;t touch you, and they know it.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;&lsquo;Touch him,&rsquo;&rdquo; murmured Mrs. Belknap-Jackson with an able sneer. &ldquo;My dear,
      what a trial he must have been to you. I never knew. He&rsquo;s as bad as the
      mater, actually.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And such hopes I had of him in Paris,&rdquo; replied Mrs. Effie, &ldquo;when he was
      taking up Art and dressing for dinner and everything!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I can be pushed just so far!&rdquo; muttered the offender darkly.
    </p>
    <p>
      There was now a ring at the door which I took the liberty of answering,
      and received two notes from a messenger. One bore the address of Mrs.
      Floud and the other was quite astonishingly to myself, the name preceded
      by &ldquo;Colonel.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s Jen&rsquo; Ballard&rsquo;s stationery!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Belknap-Jackson. &ldquo;Trust her
      not to lose one second in getting busy!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But he mustn&rsquo;t answer the door that way,&rdquo; exclaimed her husband as I
      handed Mrs. Effie her note.
    </p>
    <p>
      They were indeed both from my acquaintance of the night before. Receiving
      permission to read my own, I found it to be a dinner invitation for the
      following Friday. Mrs. Effie looked up from hers.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s all too true,&rdquo; she announced grimly. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re asked to dinner and she
      earnestly hopes dear Colonel Ruggles will have made no other engagement.
      She also says hasn&rsquo;t he the darlingest English accent. Oh, isn&rsquo;t it a
      mess!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You see how right I am,&rdquo; said Belknap-Jackson.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I guess we&rsquo;ve got to go through with it,&rdquo; conceded Mrs. Effie.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The pushing thing that Ballard woman is!&rdquo; observed her friend.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ruggles!&rdquo; exclaimed Belknap-Jackson, addressing me with sudden decision.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Listen carefully&mdash;I&rsquo;m quite serious. In future you will try to
      address me as if I were your equal. Ah! rather you will try to address me
      as if you were <i>my</i> equal. I dare say it will come to you easily
      after a bit of practice. Your employers will wish you to address them in
      the same manner. You will cultivate toward us a manner of easy
      friendliness&mdash;remember I&rsquo;m entirely serious&mdash;quite as if you
      were one of us. You must try to be, in short, the Colonel Marmaduke
      Ruggles that wretched penny-a-liner has foisted upon these innocent
      people. We shall thus avert a most humiliating contretemps.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The thing fair staggered me. I fell weakly into the chair by which I had
      stood, for the first time in a not uneventful career feeling that my <i>savoir
      faire</i> had been overtaxed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Quite right,&rdquo; he went on. &ldquo;Be seated as one of us,&rdquo; and he amazingly
      proffered me his cigarette case. &ldquo;Do take one, old chap,&rdquo; he insisted as I
      weakly waved it away, and against my will I did so. &ldquo;Dare say you&rsquo;ll fancy
      them&mdash;a non-throat cigarette especially prescribed for me.&rdquo; He now
      held a match so that I was obliged to smoke. Never have I been in less
      humour for it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;There, not so hard, is it? You see, we&rsquo;re getting on famously.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ain&rsquo;t I always said Bill was a good mixer?&rdquo; called Cousin Egbert, but his
      gaucherie was pointedly ignored.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; continued Belknap-Jackson, &ldquo;suppose you tell us in a chatty,
      friendly way just what you think about this regrettable affair.&rdquo; All sat
      forward interestedly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But I met what I supposed were your villagers,&rdquo; I said; &ldquo;your small
      tradesmen, your artisans, clerks, shop-assistants, tenant-farmers, and the
      like, I&rsquo;d no idea in the world they were your county families. Seemed
      quite a bit too jolly for that. And your press-chap&mdash;preposterous,
      quite! He quizzed me rather, I admit, but he made it vastly different.
      Your pressmen are remarkable. That thing is a fair crumpler.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But surely,&rdquo; put in Mrs. Effie, &ldquo;you could see that Mrs. Judge Ballard
      must be one of our best people.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I saw she was a goodish sort,&rdquo; I explained, &ldquo;but it never occurred to me
      one would meet her in your best houses. And when she spoke of entertaining
      me I fancied I might stroll by her cottage some fair day and be asked in
      to a slice from one of her own loaves and a dish of tea. There was that
      about her.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Mercy!&rdquo; exclaimed both ladies, Mrs. Belknap-Jackson adding a bit
      maliciously I thought, &ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t you awfully wish she could hear him say
      it just that way?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;As to the title,&rdquo; I continued, &ldquo;Mr. Egbert has from the first had a
      curious American tendency to present me to his many friends as &lsquo;Colonel.&rsquo; 
      I am sure he means as little by it as when he calls me &lsquo;Bill,&rsquo; which I
      have often reminded him is not a name of mine.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Oh, we understand the poor chap is a social incompetent,&rdquo; said
      Belknap-Jackson with a despairing shrug.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Say, look here,&rdquo; suddenly exclaimed Cousin Egbert, a new heat in his
      tone, &ldquo;what I call Bill ain&rsquo;t a marker to what I call you when I really
      get going. You ought to hear me some day when I&rsquo;m feeling right!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Really!&rdquo; exclaimed the other with elaborate sarcasm.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir. Surest thing you know. I could call you a lot of good things
      right now if so many ladies wasn&rsquo;t around. You don&rsquo;t think I&rsquo;d be afraid,
      do you? Why, Bill there had you licked with one wallop.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But really, really!&rdquo; protested the other with a helpless shrug to the
      ladies, who were gasping with dismay.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You ruffian!&rdquo; cried his wife.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Egbert Floud,&rdquo; said Mrs. Effie fiercely, &ldquo;you will apologize to Charles
      before you leave this room. The idea of forgetting yourself that way.
      Apologize at once!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Oh, very well,&rdquo; he grumbled, &ldquo;I apologize like I&rsquo;m made to.&rdquo; But he added
      quickly with even more irritation, &ldquo;only don&rsquo;t you get the idea it&rsquo;s
      because I&rsquo;m afraid of you.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Tush, tush!&rdquo; said Belknap-Jackson.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No, sir; I apologize, but it ain&rsquo;t for one minute because I&rsquo;m afraid of
      you.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Your bare apology is ample; I&rsquo;m bound to accept it,&rdquo; replied the other, a
      bit uneasily I thought.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Come right down to it,&rdquo; continued Cousin Egbert, &ldquo;I ain&rsquo;t afraid of
      hardly any person. I can be pushed just so far.&rdquo; Here he looked
      significantly at Mrs. Effie.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;After all I&rsquo;ve tried to do for him!&rdquo; she moaned. &ldquo;I thought he had
      something in him.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Darn it all, I like to be friendly with my friends,&rdquo; he bluntly
      persisted. &ldquo;I call a man anything that suits me. And I ain&rsquo;t ever
      apologized yet because I was afraid. I want all parties here to get that.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Say no more, please. It&rsquo;s quite understood,&rdquo; said Belknap-Jackson
      hastily. The other subsided into low mutterings.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I trust you fully understand the situation, Ruggles&mdash;Colonel
      Ruggles,&rdquo; he continued to me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s preposterous, but plain as a pillar-box,&rdquo; I answered. &ldquo;I can only
      regret it as keenly as any right-minded person should. It&rsquo;s not at all
      what I&rsquo;ve been accustomed to.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Very well. Then I suggest that you accompany me for a drive this
      afternoon. I&rsquo;ll call for you with the trap, say at three.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; suggested his wife, &ldquo;it might be as well if Colonel Ruggles
      were to come to us as a guest.&rdquo; She was regarding me with a gaze that was
      frankly speculative.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Oh, not at all, not at all!&rdquo; retorted Mrs. Effie crisply. &ldquo;Having been
      announced as our house guest&mdash;never do in the world for him to go to
      you so soon. We must be careful in this. Later, perhaps, my dear.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Briefly the ladies measured each other with a glance. Could it be, I asked
      myself, that they were sparring for the possession of me?
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Naturally he will be asked about everywhere, and there&rsquo;ll be loads of
      entertaining to do in return.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; returned Mrs. Effie, &ldquo;and I&rsquo;d never think of putting it off
      on to you, dear, when we&rsquo;re wholly to blame for the awful thing.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s so thoughtful of you, dear,&rdquo; replied her friend coldly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;At three, then,&rdquo; said Belknap-Jackson as we arose.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I shall be delighted,&rdquo; I murmured.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I bet you won&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert sourly. &ldquo;He wants to show you off.&rdquo;
       This, I could see, was ignored as a sheer indecency.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;We shall have to get a reception in quick,&rdquo; said Mrs. Effie, her eyes
      narrowed in calculation.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see what all the fuss was about,&rdquo; remarked Cousin Egbert again,
      as if to himself; &ldquo;tearing me to pieces like a passel of wolves!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The Belknap-Jacksons left hastily, not deigning him a glance. And to do
      the poor soul justice, I believe he did not at all know what the &ldquo;fuss&rdquo;
       had been about. The niceties of the situation were beyond him, dear old
      sort though he had shown himself to be. I knew then I was never again to
      be harsh with him, let him dress as he would.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Say,&rdquo; he asked, the moment we were alone, &ldquo;you remember that thing you
      called him back there that night&mdash;&lsquo;blighted little mug,&rsquo; was it?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s best forgotten, sir,&rdquo; I said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, sir, some way it sounded just the thing to call him. It sounded
      bully. What does it mean?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      So far was his darkened mind from comprehending that I, in a foreign land,
      among a weird people, must now have a go at being a gentleman; and that if
      I fluffed my catch we should all be gossipped to rags!
    </p>
    <p>
      Alone in my room I made a hasty inventory of my wardrobe. Thanks to the
      circumstance that the Honourable George, despite my warning, had for
      several years refused to bant, it was rather well stocked. The evening
      clothes were irreproachable; so were the frock coat and a morning suit. Of
      waistcoats there were a number showing but slight wear. The three
      lounge-suits of tweed, though slightly demoded, would still be vogue in
      this remote spot. For sticks, gloves, cravats, and body-linen I saw that I
      should be compelled to levy on the store I had laid in for Cousin Egbert,
      and I happily discovered that his top-hat set me quite effectively.
    </p>
    <p>
      Also in a casket of trifles that had knocked about in my box I had the
      good fortune to find the monocle that the Honourable George had discarded
      some years before on the ground that it was &ldquo;bally nonsense.&rdquo; I screwed
      the glass into my eye. The effect was tremendous.
    </p>
    <p>
      Rather a lark I might have thought it but for the false military title.
      That was rank deception, and I have always regarded any sort of wrongdoing
      as detestable. Perhaps if he had introduced me as a mere subaltern in a
      line regiment&mdash;but I was powerless.
    </p>
    <p>
      For the afternoon&rsquo;s drive I chose the smartest of the lounge-suits, a
      Carlsbad hat which Cousin Egbert had bitterly resented for himself, and
      for top-coat a light weight, straight-hanging Chesterfield with velvet
      collar which, although the cut studiously avoids a fitted effect, is yet a
      garment that intrigues the eye when carried with any distinction. So many
      top-coats are but mere wrappings! I had, too, gloves of a delicately
      contrasting tint.
    </p>
    <p>
      Altogether I felt I had turned myself out well, and this I found to be the
      verdict of Mrs. Effie, who engaged me in the hall to say that I was to
      have anything in the way of equipment I liked to ask for. Belknap-Jackson
      also, arriving now in a smart trap to which he drove two cobs tandem, was
      at once impressed and made me compliments upon my tenue. I was aware that
      I appeared not badly beside him. I mean to say, I felt that I was vogue in
      the finest sense of the word.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mrs. Effie waved us a farewell from the doorway, and I was conscious that
      from several houses on either side of the avenue we attracted more than a
      bit of attention. There were doors opened, blinds pushed aside, faces&mdash;that
      sort of thing.
    </p>
    <p>
      At a leisurely pace we progressed through the main thoroughfares. That we
      created a sensation, especially along the commercial streets, where my
      host halted at shops to order goods, cannot be denied. Furore is perhaps
      the word. I mean to say, almost quite every one stared. Rather more like a
      parade it was than I could have wished, but I was again resolved to be a
      dead sportsman.
    </p>
    <p>
      Among those who saluted us from time to time were several of the lesser
      townsmen to whom Cousin Egbert had presented me the evening before, and I
      now perceived that most of these were truly persons I must not know in my
      present station&mdash;hodmen, road-menders, grooms, delivery-chaps, that
      sort. In responding to the often florid salutations of such, I instilled
      into my barely perceptible nod a certain frigidity that I trusted might be
      informing. I mean to say, having now a position to keep up, it would never
      do at all to chatter and pal about loosely as Cousin Egbert did.
    </p>
    <p>
      When we had done a fairish number of streets, both of shops and villas, we
      drove out a winding roadway along a tarn to the country club. The house
      was an unpretentious structure of native wood, fronting a couple of tennis
      courts and a golf links, but although it was tea-time, not a soul was
      present. Having unlocked the door, my host suggested refreshment and I
      consented to partake of a glass of sherry and a biscuit. But these, it
      seemed, were not to be had; so over pegs of ginger ale, found in an
      ice-chest, we sat for a time and chatted.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You will find us crude, Ruggles, as I warned you,&rdquo; my host observed.
      &ldquo;Take this deserted clubhouse at this hour. It tells the story. Take again
      the matter of sherry and a biscuit&mdash;so simple! Yet no one ever thinks
      of them, and what you mean by a biscuit is in this wretched hole spoken of
      as a cracker.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I thanked him for the item, resolving to add it to my list of curious
      Americanisms. Already I had begun a narrative of my adventures in this
      wild land, a thing I had tentatively entitled, &ldquo;Alone in North America.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Though we have people in abundance of ample means,&rdquo; he went on, &ldquo;you will
      regret to know that we have not achieved a leisured class. Barely once in
      a fortnight will you see this club patronized, after all the pains I took
      in its organization. They simply haven&rsquo;t evolved to the idea yet;
      sometimes I have moments in which I despair of their ever doing so.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      As usual he grew depressed when speaking of social Red Gap, so that we did
      not tarry long in the silent place that should have been quite alive with
      people smartly having their tea. As we drove back he touched briefly and
      with all delicacy on our changed relations.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What made me only too glad to consent to it,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;is the sodden
      depravity of that Floud chap. Really he&rsquo;s a menace to the community. I saw
      from the degenerate leer on his face this morning that he will not be able
      to keep silent about that little affair of ours back there. Mark my words,
      he&rsquo;ll talk. And fancy how embarrassing had you continued in the office for
      which you were engaged. Fancy it being known I had been assaulted by a&mdash;you
      see what I mean. But now, let him talk his vilest. What is it? A mere
      disagreement between two gentlemen, generous, hot-tempered chaps, followed
      by mutual apologies. A mere nothing!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I was conscious of more than a little irritation at his manner of speaking
      of Cousin Egbert, but this in my new character I could hardly betray.
    </p>
    <p>
      When he set me down at the Floud house, &ldquo;Thanks for the breeze-out,&rdquo; I
      said; then, with an easy wave of the hand and in firm tones, &ldquo;Good day,
      Jackson! See you again, old chap!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I had nerved myself to it as to an icy tub and was rewarded by a glow such
      as had suffused me that morning in Paris after the shameful proceedings
      with Cousin Egbert and the Indian Tuttle. I mean to say, I felt again that
      wonderful thrill of equality&mdash;quite as if my superiors were not all
      about me.
    </p>
    <p>
      Inside the house Mrs. Effie addressed the last of a heap of invitations
      for an early reception&mdash;&ldquo;To meet Colonel Marmaduke Ruggles,&rdquo; they
      read.
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER NINE
    </h2>
    <p>
      Of the following fortnight I find it difficult to write coherently. I
      found myself in a steady whirl of receptions, luncheons, dinners, teas,
      and assemblies of rather a pretentious character, at the greater number of
      which I was obliged to appear as the guest of honour. It began with the
      reception of Mrs. Floud, at which I may be said to have made my first
      formal bow to the smarter element of Red Gap, followed by the dinner of
      the Mrs. Ballard, with whom I had formed acquaintance on that first
      memorable evening.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was during this time like a babe at blind play with a set of chess men,
      not knowing king from pawn nor one rule of the game. Senator Floud&mdash;who
      was but a member of their provincial assembly, I discovered&mdash;sought
      an early opportunity to felicitate me on my changed estate, though he
      seemed not a little amused by it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Good work!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You know I was afraid our having an English valet
      would put me in bad with the voters this fall. They&rsquo;re already saying I
      wear silk stockings since I&rsquo;ve been abroad. My wife did buy me six pair,
      but I&rsquo;ve never worn any. Shows how people talk, though. And even now
      they&rsquo;ll probably say I&rsquo;m making up to the British army. But it&rsquo;s better
      than having a valet in the house. The plain people would never stand my
      having a valet and I know it.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I thought this most remarkable, that his constituency should resent his
      having proper house service. American politics were, then, more debased
      than even we of England had dreamed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Good work!&rdquo; he said again. &ldquo;And say, take out your papers&mdash;become
      one of us. Be a citizen. Nothing better than an American citizen on God&rsquo;s
      green earth. Read the Declaration of Independence. Here&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
       From a bookcase at his hand he reached me a volume. &ldquo;Read and reflect, my
      man! Become a citizen of a country where true worth has always its chance
      and one may hope to climb to any heights whatsoever.&rdquo; Quite like an
      advertisement he talked, but I read their so-called Declaration, finding
      it snarky in the extreme and with no end of silly rot about equality. In
      no way at all did it solve the problems by which I had been so suddenly
      confronted.
    </p>
    <p>
      Social lines in the town seemed to have been drawn by no rule whatever.
      There were actually tradesmen who seemed to matter enormously; on the
      other hand, there were those of undoubted qualifications, like Mrs.
      Pettengill, for example, and Cousin Egbert, who deliberately chose not to
      matter, and mingled as freely with the Bohemian set as they did with the
      county families. Thus one could never be quite certain whom one was
      meeting. There was the Tuttle person. I had learned from Mrs. Effie in
      Paris that he was an Indian (accounting for much that was startling in his
      behaviour there) yet despite his being an aborigine I now learned that his
      was one of the county families and he and his white American wife were
      guests at that first dinner. Throughout the meal both Cousin Egbert and he
      winked atrociously at me whenever they could catch my eye.
    </p>
    <p>
      There was, again, an English person calling himself Hobbs, a baker, to
      whom Cousin Egbert presented me, full of delight at the idea that as
      compatriots we were bound to be congenial. Yet it needed only a glance and
      a moment&rsquo;s listening to the fellow&rsquo;s execrable cockney dialect to perceive
      that he was distinctly low-class, and I was immensely relieved, upon
      inquiry, to learn that he affiliated only with the Bohemian set. I felt a
      marked antagonism between us at that first meeting; the fellow eyed me
      with frank suspicion and displayed a taste for low chaffing which I felt
      bound to rebuke. He it was, I may now disclose, who later began a fashion
      of referring to me as &ldquo;Lord Algy,&rdquo; which I found in the worst possible
      taste. &ldquo;Sets himself up for a gentleman, does he? He ain&rsquo;t no more a
      gentleman than wot I be!&rdquo; This speech of his reported to me will show how
      impossible the creature was. He was simply a person one does not know, and
      I was not long in letting him see it.
    </p>
    <p>
      And there was the woman who was to play so active a part in my later
      history, of whom it will be well to speak at once. I had remarked her on
      the main street before I knew her identity. I am bound to say she stood
      out from the other women of Red Gap by reason of a certain dash, not to
      say beauty. Rather above medium height and of pleasingly full figure, her
      face was piquantly alert, with long-lashed eyes of a peculiar green, a
      small nose, the least bit raised, a lifted chin, and an abundance of
      yellowish hair. But it was the expertness of her gowning that really held
      my attention at that first view, and the fact that she knew what to put on
      her head. For the most part, the ladies I had met were well enough gotten
      up yet looked curiously all wrong, lacking a genius for harmony of detail.
    </p>
    <p>
      This person, I repeat, displayed a taste that was faultless, a knowledge
      of the peculiar needs of her face and figure that was unimpeachable.
      Rather with regret it was I found her to be a Mrs. Kenner, the leader of
      the Bohemian set. And then came the further items that marked her as one
      that could not be taken up. Perhaps a summary of these may be conveyed
      when I say that she had long been known as Klondike Kate. She had some
      years before, it seemed, been a dancing person in the far Alaska north and
      had there married the proprietor of one of the resorts in which she
      disported herself&mdash;a man who had accumulated a very sizable fortune
      in his public house and who was shot to death by one of his patrons who
      had alleged unfairness in a game of chance. The widow had then purchased a
      townhouse in Red Gap and had quickly gathered about her what was known as
      the Bohemian set, the county families, of course, refusing to know her.
    </p>
    <p>
      After that first brief study of her I could more easily account for the
      undercurrents of bitterness I had felt in Red Gap society. She would be, I
      saw, a dangerous woman in any situation where she was opposed; there was
      that about her&mdash;a sort of daring disregard of the established social
      order. I was not surprised to learn that the men of the community strongly
      favoured her, especially the younger dancing set who were not restrained
      by domestic considerations. Small wonder then that the women of the &ldquo;old
      noblesse,&rdquo; as I may call them, were outspokenly bitter in their comments
      upon her. This I discovered when I attended an afternoon meeting of the
      ladies&rsquo; &ldquo;Onwards and Upwards Club,&rdquo; which, I had been told, would be
      devoted to a study of the English Lake poets, and where, it having been
      discovered that I read rather well, I had consented to favour the assembly
      with some of the more significant bits from these bards. The meeting, I
      regret to say, after a formal enough opening was diverted from its
      original purpose, the time being occupied in a quite heated discussion of
      a so-called &ldquo;Dutch Supper&rdquo; the Klondike person had given the evening
      before, the same having been attended, it seemed, by the husbands of at
      least three of those present, who had gone incognito, as it were. At no
      time during the ensuing two hours was there a moment that seemed opportune
      for the introduction of some of our noblest verse.
    </p>
    <p>
      And so, by often painful stages, did my education progress. At the country
      club I played golf with Mr. Jackson. At social affairs I appeared with the
      Flouds. I played bridge. I danced the more dignified dances. And, though
      there was no proper church in the town&mdash;only dissenting chapels,
      Methodist, Presbyterian, and such outlandish persuasions&mdash;I attended
      services each Sabbath, and more than once had tea with what at home would
      have been the vicar of the parish.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was now, when I had begun to feel a bit at ease in my queer foreign
      environment, that Mr. Belknap-Jackson broached his ill-starred plan for
      amateur theatricals. At the first suggestion of this I was immensely taken
      with the idea, suspecting that he would perhaps present &ldquo;Hamlet,&rdquo; a part
      to which I have devoted long and intelligent study and to which I feel
      that I could bring something which has not yet been imparted to it by even
      the most skilled of our professional actors. But at my suggestion of this
      Mr. Belknap-Jackson informed me that he had already played Hamlet himself
      the year before, leaving nothing further to be done in that direction, and
      he wished now to attempt something more difficult; something, moreover,
      that would appeal to the little group of thinking people about us&mdash;he
      would have &ldquo;a little theatre of ideas,&rdquo; as he phrased it&mdash;and he had
      chosen for his first offering a play entitled &ldquo;Ghosts&rdquo; by the foreign
      dramatist Ibsen.
    </p>
    <p>
      I suspected at first that this might be a farce where a supposititious
      ghost brings about absurd predicaments in a country house, having seen
      something along these lines, but a reading of the thing enlightened me as
      to its character, which, to put it bluntly, is rather thick. There is a
      strain of immorality running through it which I believe cannot be too
      strongly condemned if the world is to be made better, and this is rendered
      the more repugnant to right-thinking people by the fact that the
      participants are middle-class persons who converse in quite commonplace
      language such as one may hear any day in the home.
    </p>
    <p>
      Wrongdoing is surely never so objectionable as when it is indulged in by
      common people and talked about in ordinary language, and the language of
      this play is not stage language at all. Immorality such as one gets in
      Shakespeare is of so elevated a character that one accepts it, the
      language having a grandeur incomparably above what any person was ever
      capable of in private life, being always elegant and unnatural.
    </p>
    <p>
      Though I felt this strongly, I was in no position to urge my objections,
      and at length consented to take a part in the production, reflecting that
      the people depicted were really foreigners and the part I would play was
      that of a clergyman whose behaviour throughout is above reproach. For
      himself Mr. Jackson had chosen the part of Oswald, a youth who goes quite
      dotty at the last for reasons which are better not talked about. His wife
      was to play the part of a serving-maid, who was rather a baggage, while
      Mrs. Judge Ballard was to enact his mother. (I may say in passing I have
      learned that the plays of this foreigner are largely concerned with people
      who have been queer at one time or another, so that one&rsquo;s parentage is
      often uncertain, though they always pay for it by going off in the head
      before the final curtain. I mean to say, there is too much neighbourhood
      scandal in them.)
    </p>
    <p>
      There remained but one part to fill, that of the father of the
      serving-maid, an uncouth sort of drinking-man, quite low-class, who, in my
      opinion, should never have been allowed on the stage at all, since no
      moral lesson is taught by him. It was in the casting of this part that Mr.
      Jackson showed himself of a forgiving nature. He offered it to Cousin
      Egbert, saying he was the true &ldquo;type&rdquo;&mdash;&ldquo;with his weak, dissolute
      face&rdquo;&mdash;and that &ldquo;types&rdquo; were all the rage in theatricals.
    </p>
    <p>
      At first the latter heatedly declined the honour, but after being urged
      and browbeaten for three days by Mrs. Effie he somewhat sullenly
      consented, being shown that there were not many lines for him to learn.
      From the first, I think, he was rendered quite miserable by the ordeal
      before him, yet he submitted to the rehearsals with a rather pathetic
      desire to please, and for a time all seemed well. Many an hour found him
      mugging away at the book, earnestly striving to memorize the part, or, as
      he quaintly expressed it, &ldquo;that there piece they want me to speak.&rdquo; But as
      the day of our performance drew near it became evident to me, at least,
      that he was in a desperately black state of mind. As best I could I
      cheered him with words of praise, but his eye met mine blankly at such
      times and I could see him shudder poignantly while waiting the moment of
      his entrance.
    </p>
    <p>
      And still all might have been well, I fancy, but for the extremely
      conscientious views of Mr. Jackson in the matter of our costuming and
      make-up. With his lines fairly learned, Cousin Egbert on the night of our
      dress rehearsal was called upon first to don the garb of the foreign
      carpenter he was to enact, the same involving shorts and gray woollen hose
      to his knees, at which he protested violently. So far as I could gather,
      his modesty was affronted by this revelation of his lower legs. Being at
      length persuaded to this sacrifice, he next submitted his face to Mr.
      Jackson, who adjusted it to a labouring person&rsquo;s beard and eyebrows,
      crimsoning the cheeks and nose heavily with grease-paint and crowning all
      with an unkempt wig.
    </p>
    <p>
      The result, I am bound to say, was artistic in the extreme. No one would
      have suspected the identity of Cousin Egbert, and I had hopes that he
      would feel a new courage for his part when he beheld himself. Instead,
      however, after one quick glance into the glass he emitted a gasp of horror
      that was most eloquent, and thereafter refused to be comforted, holding
      himself aloof and glaring hideously at all who approached him. Rather like
      a mad dog he was.
    </p>
    <p>
      Half an hour later, when all was ready for our first act, Cousin Egbert
      was not to be found. I need not dwell upon the annoyance this occasioned,
      nor upon how a substitute in the person of our hall&rsquo;s custodian, or
      janitor, was impressed to read the part. Suffice it to tell briefly that
      Cousin Egbert, costumed and bedizened as he was, had fled not only the
      theatre but the town as well. Search for him on the morrow was unavailing.
      Not until the second day did it become known that he had been seen at
      daybreak forty miles from Red Gap, goading a spent horse into the wilds of
      the adjacent mountains. Our informant disclosed that one side of his face
      was still bearded and that he had kept glancing back over his shoulder at
      frequent intervals, as if fearful of pursuit. Something of his frantic
      state may also be gleaned from the circumstance that the horse he rode was
      one he had found hitched in a side street near the hall, its ownership
      being unknown to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      For the rest it may be said that our performance was given as scheduled,
      announcement being made of the sudden illness of Mr. Egbert Floud, and his
      part being read from the book in a rich and cultivated voice by the
      superintendent of the high school. Our efforts were received with
      respectful attention by a large audience, among whom I noted many of the
      Bohemian set, and this I took as an especial tribute to our merits. Mr.
      Belknap-Jackson, however, to whom I mentioned the circumstance, was
      pessimistic.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I fear,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;we have not heard the last of it. I am sure they came
      for no good purpose.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;They were quite orderly in their behaviour,&rdquo; I suggested
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Which is why I suspect them. That Kenner woman, Hobbs, the baker, the
      others of their set&mdash;they&rsquo;re not thinking people; I dare say they
      never consider social problems seriously. And you may have noticed that
      they announce an amateur minstrel performance for a week hence. I&rsquo;m quite
      convinced that they mean to be vulgar to the last extreme&mdash;there has
      been so much talk of the behaviour of the wretched Floud, a fellow who
      really has no place in our modern civilization. He should be compelled to
      remain on his ranche.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      And indeed these suspicions proved to be only too well founded. That which
      followed was so atrociously personal that in any country but America we
      could have had an action against them. As Mr. Belknap-Jackson so bitterly
      said when all was over, &ldquo;Our boasted liberty has degenerated into
      license.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      It is best told in a few words, this affair of the minstrel performance,
      which I understood was to be an entertainment wherein the participants
      darkened themselves to resemble blackamoors. Naturally, I did not attend,
      it being agreed that the best people should signify their disapproval by
      staying away, but the disgraceful affair was recounted to me in all its
      details by more than one of the large audience that assembled. In the
      so-called &ldquo;grand first part&rdquo; there seemed to have been little that was
      flagrantly insulting to us, although in their exchange of conundrums,
      which is a peculiar feature of this form of entertainment, certain names
      were bandied about with a freedom that boded no good.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was in the after-piece that the poltroons gave free play to their
      vilest fancies. Our piece having been announced as &ldquo;Ghosts; a Drama for
      Thinking People,&rdquo; this part was entitled on their programme, &ldquo;Gloats; a
      Dram for Drinking People,&rdquo; a transposition that should perhaps suffice to
      show the dreadful lengths to which they went; yet I feel that the thing
      should be set down in full.
    </p>
    <p>
      The stage was set as our own had been, but it would scarce be credited
      that the Kenner woman in male attire had made herself up in a curiously
      accurate resemblance to Belknap-Jackson as he had rendered the part of
      Oswald, copying not alone his wig, moustache, and fashion of speech, but
      appearing in a golfing suit which was recognized by those present as
      actually belonging to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      Nor was this the worst, for the fellow Hobbs had copied my own dress and
      make-up and persisted in speaking in an exaggerated manner alleged to
      resemble mine. This, of course, was the most shocking bad taste, and while
      it was quite to have been expected of Hobbs, I was indeed rather surprised
      that the entire assembly did not leave the auditorium in disgust the
      moment they perceived his base intention. But it was Cousin Egbert whom
      they had chosen to rag most unmercifully, and they were not long in
      displaying their clumsy attempts at humour.
    </p>
    <p>
      As the curtain went up they were searching for him, affecting to be
      unconscious of the presence of their audience, and declaring that the play
      couldn&rsquo;t go on without him. &ldquo;Have you tried all the saloons?&rdquo; asked one,
      to which another responded, &ldquo;Yes, and he&rsquo;s been in all of them, but now he
      has fled. The sheriff has put bloodhounds on his trail and promises to
      have him here, dead or alive.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Then while we are waiting,&rdquo; declared the character supposed to represent
      myself, &ldquo;I will tell you a wheeze,&rdquo; whereupon both the female characters
      fell to their knees shrieking, &ldquo;Not that! My God, not that!&rdquo; while Oswald
      sneered viciously and muttered, &ldquo;Serves me right for leaving Boston.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      To show the infamy of the thing, I must here explain that at several
      social gatherings, in an effort which I still believe was praiseworthy, I
      had told an excellent wheeze which runs: &ldquo;Have you heard the story of the
      three holes in the ground?&rdquo; I mean to say, I would ask this in an
      interested manner, as if I were about to relate the anecdote, and upon
      being answered &ldquo;No!&rdquo; I would exclaim with mock seriousness, &ldquo;Well! Well!
      Well!&rdquo; This had gone rippingly almost quite every time I had favoured a
      company with it, hardly any one of my hearers failing to get the joke at a
      second telling. I mean to say, the three holes in the ground being three
      &ldquo;Wells!&rdquo; uttered in rapid succession.
    </p>
    <p>
      Of course if one doesn&rsquo;t see it at once, or finds it a bit subtle, it&rsquo;s
      quite silly to attempt to explain it, because logically there is no
      adequate explanation. It is merely a bit of nonsense, and that&rsquo;s quite all
      to it. But these boors now fell upon it with their coarse humour, the
      fellow Hobbs pretending to get it all wrong by asking if they had heard
      the story about the three wells and the others replying: &ldquo;No, tell us the
      hole thing,&rdquo; which made utter nonsense of it, whereupon they all began to
      cry, &ldquo;Well! well! well!&rdquo; at each other until interrupted by a terrific
      noise in the wings, which was followed by the entrance of the supposed
      Cousin Egbert, a part enacted by the cab-driver who had conveyed us from
      the station the day of our arrival. Dragged on he was by the sheriff and
      two of the town constables, the latter being armed with fowling-pieces and
      the sheriff holding two large dogs in leash. The character himself was
      heavily manacled and madly rattled his chains, his face being disguised to
      resemble Cousin Egbert&rsquo;s after the beard had been adjusted.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Here he is!&rdquo; exclaimed the supposed sheriff; &ldquo;the dogs ran him into the
      third hole left by the well-diggers, and we lured him out by making a
      noise like sour dough.&rdquo; During this speech, I am told, the character
      snarled continuously and tried to bite his captors. At this the woman, who
      had so deplorably unsexed herself for the character of Mr. Belknap-Jackson
      as he had played Oswald, approached the prisoner and smartly drew forth a
      handful of his beard which she stuffed into a pipe and proceeded to smoke,
      after which they pretended that the play went on. But no more than a few
      speeches had been uttered when the supposed Cousin Egbert eluded his
      captors and, emitting a loud shriek of horror, leaped headlong through the
      window at the back of the stage, his disappearance being followed by the
      sounds of breaking glass as he was supposed to fall to the street below.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;How lovely!&rdquo; exclaimed the mimic Oswald. &ldquo;Perhaps he has broken both his
      legs so he can&rsquo;t run off any more,&rdquo; at which the fellow Hobbs remarked in
      his affected tones: &ldquo;That sort of thing would never do with us.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      This I learned aroused much laughter, the idea being that the remark had
      been one which I am supposed to make in private life, though I dare say I
      have never uttered anything remotely like it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The fellow is quite impossible,&rdquo; continued the spurious Oswald, with a
      doubtless rather clever imitation of Mr. Belknap-Jackson&rsquo;s manner. &ldquo;If he
      is killed, feed him to the goldfish and let one of the dogs read his part.
      We must get along with this play. Now, then. &lsquo;Ah! why did I ever leave
      Boston where every one is nice and proper?&rsquo;&rdquo; To which his supposed mother
      replied with feigned emotion: &ldquo;It was because of your father, my poor boy.
      Ah, what I had to endure through those years when he cursed and spoke
      disrespectfully of our city. &lsquo;Scissors and white aprons,&rsquo; he would cry
      out, &lsquo;Why is Boston?&rsquo; But I bore it all for your sake, and now you, too,
      are smoking&mdash;you will go the same way.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But promise me, mother,&rdquo; returns Oswald, &ldquo;promise me if I ever get dusty
      in the garret, that Lord Algy here will tell me one of his funny wheezes
      and put me out of pain. You could not bear to hear me knocking Boston as
      poor father did. And I feel it coming&mdash;already my mother-in-law has
      bluffed me into admitting that Red Gap has a right to be on the same map
      with Boston if it&rsquo;s a big map.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      And this was the coarsely wretched buffoonery that refined people were
      expected to sit through! Yet worse followed, for at their climax, the
      mimic Oswald having gone quite off his head, the Hobbs person, still with
      the preposterous affectation of taking me off in speech and manner, was
      persuaded by the stricken mother to sing. &ldquo;Sing that dear old plantation
      melody from London,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;so that my poor boy may know there are
      worse things than death.&rdquo; And all this witless piffle because of a quite
      natural misunderstanding of mine.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have before referred to what I supposed was an American plantation
      melody which I had heard a black sing at Brighton, meaning one of the
      English blacks who colour themselves for the purpose, but on reciting the
      lines at an evening affair, when the American folksongs were under
      discussion, I was told that it could hardly have been written by an
      American at all, but doubtless by one of our own composers who had taken
      too little trouble with his facts. I mean to say, the song as I had it,
      betrayed misapprehensions both of a geographical and faunal nature, but I
      am certain that no one thought the worse of me for having been deceived,
      and I had supposed the thing forgotten. Yet now what did I hear but that a
      garbled version of this song had been supposedly sung by myself, the Hobbs
      person meantime mincing across the stage and gesturing with a monocle
      which he had somehow procured, the words being quite simply:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
    &ldquo;Away down south in Michigan,
      Where I was a slave, so happy and so gay,
    &lsquo;Twas there I mowed the cotton and the cane.
    I used to hunt the elephants, the tigers, and giraffes,
      And the alligators at the break of day.
    But the blooming Injuns prowled about my cabin every night,
      So I&rsquo;d take me down my banjo and I&rsquo;d play,
    And I&rsquo;d sing a little song and I&rsquo;d make them dance with glee,
      On the banks of the Ohio far away.&rdquo;
 </pre>
    <p>
      I mean to say, there was nothing to make a dust about even if the song
      were not of a true American origin, yet I was told that the creature who
      sang it received hearty applause and even responded to an encore.
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER TEN
    </h2>
    <p>
      I need hardly say that this public ridicule left me dazed. Desperately I
      recalled our calm and orderly England where such things would not be
      permitted. There we are born to our stations and are not allowed to forget
      them. We matter from birth, or we do not matter, and that&rsquo;s all to it.
      Here there seemed to be no stations to which one was born; the effect was
      sheer anarchy, and one might ridicule any one whomsoever. As was actually
      said in that snarky manifesto drawn up by the rebel leaders at the time
      our colonies revolted, &ldquo;All men are created free and equal&rdquo;&mdash;than
      which absurdity could go no farther&mdash;yet the lower middle classes
      seemed to behave quite as if it were true.
    </p>
    <p>
      And now through no fault of my own another awkward circumstance was
      threatening to call further attention to me, which was highly undesirable
      at this moment when the cheap one-and-six Hobbs fellow had so pointedly
      singled me out for his loathsome buffoonery.
    </p>
    <p>
      Some ten days before, walking alone at the edge of town one calm
      afternoon, where I might commune with Nature, of which I have always been
      fond, I noted an humble vine-clad cot, in the kitchen garden of which
      there toiled a youngish, neat-figured woman whom I at once recognized as a
      person who did occasional charring for the Flouds on the occasion of their
      dinners or receptions. As she had appeared to be cheerful and competent,
      of respectful manners and a quite marked intelligence, I made nothing of
      stopping at her gate for a moment&rsquo;s chat, feeling a quite decided relief
      in the thought that here was one with whom I need make no pretence, her
      social position being sharply defined.
    </p>
    <p>
      We spoke of the day&rsquo;s heat, which was bland, of the vegetables which she
      watered with a lawn hose, particularly of the tomatoes of which she was
      pardonably proud, and of the flowering vine which shielded her piazza from
      the sun. And when she presently and with due courtesy invited me to enter,
      I very affably did so, finding the atmosphere of the place reposeful and
      her conversation of a character that I could approve. She was dressed in a
      blue print gown that suited her no end, the sleeves turned back over her
      capable arms; her brown hair was arranged with scrupulous neatness, her
      face was pleasantly flushed from her agricultural labours, and her blue
      eyes flashed a friendly welcome and a pleased acknowledgment of the
      compliments I made her on the garden. Altogether, she was a person with
      whom I at once felt myself at ease, and a relief, I confess it was, after
      the strain of my high social endeavours.
    </p>
    <p>
      After a tour of the garden I found myself in the cool twilight of her
      little parlour, where she begged me to be seated while she prepared me a
      dish of tea, which she did in the adjoining kitchen, to a cheerful
      accompaniment of song, quite with an honest, unpretentious
      good-heartedness. Glad I was for the moment to forget the social rancors
      of the town, the affronted dignities of the North Side set, and the
      pernicious activities of the Bohemians, for here all was of a simple
      humanity such as I would have found in a farmer&rsquo;s cottage at home.
    </p>
    <p>
      As I rested in the parlour I could not but approve its general air of
      comfort and good taste&mdash;its clean flowered wall-paper, the pair of
      stuffed birds on the mantel, the comfortable chairs, the neat carpet, the
      pictures, and, on a slender-legged stand, the globe of goldfish. These I
      noted with an especial pleasure, for I have always found an intense
      satisfaction in their silent companionship. Of the pictures I noted
      particularly a life-sized drawing in black-and-white in a large gold
      frame, of a man whom I divined was the deceased husband of my hostess.
      There was also a spirited reproduction of &ldquo;The Stag at Bay&rdquo; and some
      charming coloured prints of villagers, children, and domestic animals in
      their lighter moments.
    </p>
    <p>
      Tea being presently ready, I genially insisted that it should be served in
      the kitchen where it had been prepared, though to this my hostess at first
      stoutly objected, declaring that the room was in no suitable state. But
      this was a mere womanish hypocrisy, as the place was spotless, orderly,
      and in fact quite meticulous in its neatness. The tea was astonishingly
      excellent, so few Americans I had observed having the faintest notion of
      the real meaning of tea, and I was offered with it bread and butter and a
      genuinely satisfying compote of plums of which my hostess confessed
      herself the fabricator, having, as she quaintly phrased the thing, &ldquo;put it
      up.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      And so, over this collation, we chatted for quite all of an hour. The lady
      did, as I have intimated, a bit of charring, a bit of plain sewing, and
      also derived no small revenue from her vegetables and fruit, thus
      managing, as she owned the free-hold of the premises, to make a decent
      living for herself and child. I have said that she was cheerful and
      competent, and these epithets kept returning to me as we talked. Her
      husband&mdash;she spoke of him as &ldquo;poor Judson&rdquo;&mdash;had been a carter
      and odd-job fellow, decent enough, I dare say, but hardly the man for her,
      I thought, after studying his portrait. There was a sort of foppish
      weakness in his face. And indeed his going seemed to have worked her no
      hardship, nor to have left any incurable sting of loss.
    </p>
    <p>
      Three cups of the almost perfect tea I drank, as we talked of her own
      simple affairs and of the town at large, and at length of her child who
      awakened noisily from slumber in an adjacent room and came voraciously to
      partake of food. It was a male child of some two and a half years, rather
      suggesting the generous good-nature of the mother, but in the most
      shocking condition, a thing I should have spoken strongly to her about at
      once had I known her better. Queer it seemed to me that a woman of her
      apparently sound judgment should let her offspring reach this terrible
      state without some effort to alleviate it. The poor thing, to be blunt,
      was grossly corpulent, legs, arms, body, and face being wretchedly fat,
      and yet she now fed it a large slice of bread thickly spread with butter
      and loaded to overflowing with the fattening sweet. Banting of the
      strictest sort was of course what it needed. I have had but the slightest
      experience with children, but there could be no doubt of this if its
      figure was to be maintained. Its waistline was quite impossible, and its
      eyes, as it owlishly scrutinized me over its superfluous food, showed from
      a face already quite as puffy as the Honourable George&rsquo;s. I did, indeed,
      venture so far as suggesting that food at untimely hours made for a
      too-rounded outline, but to my surprise the mother took this as a tribute
      to the creature&rsquo;s grace, crying, &ldquo;Yes, he wuzzum wuzzums a fatty ole
      sing,&rdquo; with an air of most fatuous pride, and followed this by announcing
      my name to it with concerned precision.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ruggums,&rdquo; it exclaimed promptly, getting the name all wrong and staring
      at me with cold detachment; then &ldquo;Ruggums-Ruggums-Ruggums!&rdquo; as if it were
      a game, but still stuffing itself meanwhile. There was a sort of horrid
      fascination in the sight, but I strove as well as I could to keep my gaze
      from it, and the mother and I again talked of matters at large.
    </p>
    <p>
      I come now to speak of an incident which made this quite harmless visit
      memorable and entailed unforeseen consequences of an almost quite serious
      character.
    </p>
    <p>
      As we sat at tea there stalked into the kitchen a nondescript sort of dog,
      a creature of fairish size, of a rambling structure, so to speak, coloured
      a puzzling grayish brown with underlying hints of yellow, with vast
      drooping ears, and a long and most saturnine countenance.
    </p>
    <p>
      Quite a shock it gave me when I looked up to find the beast staring at me
      with what I took to be the most hearty disapproval. My hostess paused in
      silence as she noted my glance. The beast then approached me, sniffed at
      my boots inquiringly, then at my hands with increasing animation, and at
      last leaped into my lap and had licked my face before I could prevent it.
    </p>
    <p>
      I need hardly say that this attention was embarrassing and most
      distasteful, since I have never held with dogs. They are doubtless well
      enough in their place, but there is a vast deal of sentiment about them
      that is silly, and outside the hunting field the most finely bred of them
      are too apt to be noisy nuisances. When I say that the beast in question
      was quite an American dog, obviously of no breeding whatever, my dismay
      will be readily imagined. Rather impulsively, I confess, I threw him to
      the floor with a stern, &ldquo;Begone, sir!&rdquo; whereat he merely crawled to my
      feet and whimpered, looking up into my eyes with a most horrid and
      sickening air of devotion. Hereupon, to my surprise, my hostess gayly
      called out:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Why, look at Mr. Barker&mdash;he&rsquo;s actually taken up with you right away,
      and him usually so suspicious of strangers. Only yesterday he bit an agent
      that was calling with silver polish to sell&mdash;bit him in the leg so I
      had to buy some from the poor fellow&mdash;and now see! He&rsquo;s as friendly
      with you as you could wish. They do say that dogs know when people are all
      right. Look at him trying to get into your lap again.&rdquo; And indeed the
      beast was again fawning upon me in the most abject manner, licking my
      hands and seeming to express for me some hideous admiration. Seeing that I
      repulsed his advances none too gently, his owner called to him:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Down, Mr. Barker, down, sir! Get out!&rdquo; she continued, seeing that he paid
      her no attention, and then she thoughtfully seized him by the collar and
      dragged him to a safe distance where she held him, he nevertheless
      continuing to regard me with the most servile affection.
    </p>
    <p>
      {Illustration: &ldquo;WHY, LOOK AT MR. BARKER&mdash;HE&rsquo;S ACTUALLY TAKEN UP WITH
      YOU RIGHT AWAY, AND HIM USUALLY SO SUSPICIOUS OF STRANGERS&rdquo;}
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ruggums, Ruggums, Ruggums!&rdquo; exploded the child at this, excitedly waving
      the crust of its bread.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Behave, Mr. Barker!&rdquo; called his owner again. &ldquo;The gentleman probably
      doesn&rsquo;t want you climbing all over him.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The remainder of my visit was somewhat marred by the determination of Mr.
      Barker, as he was indeed quite seriously called, to force his monstrous
      affections upon me, and by the well-meant but often careless efforts of
      his mistress to restrain him. She, indeed, appeared to believe that I
      would feel immensely pleased at these tokens of his liking.
    </p>
    <p>
      As I took my leave after sincere expressions of my pleasure in the call,
      the child with its face one fearful smear of jam again waved its crust and
      shouted, &ldquo;Ruggums!&rdquo; while the dog was plainly bent on departing with me.
      Not until he had been secured by a rope to one of the porch stanchions
      could I safely leave, and as I went he howled dismally after violent
      efforts to chew the detaining rope apart.
    </p>
    <p>
      I finished my stroll with the greatest satisfaction, for during the entire
      hour I had been enabled to forget the manifold cares of my position. Again
      it seemed to me that the portrait in the little parlour was not that of a
      man who had been entirely suited to this worthy and energetic young woman.
      Highly deserving she seemed, and when I knew her better, as I made no
      doubt I should, I resolved to instruct her in the matter of a more
      suitable diet for her offspring, the present one, as I have said, carrying
      quite too large a preponderance of animal fats. Also, I mused upon the
      extraordinary tolerance she accorded to the sad-faced but too
      demonstrative Mr. Barker. He had been named, I fancied, by some one with a
      primitive sense of humour, I mean to say, he might have been facetiously
      called &ldquo;Barker&rdquo; because he actually barked a bit, though adding the
      &ldquo;Mister&rdquo; to it seemed to be rather forcing the poor drollery. At any rate,
      I was glad to believe I should see little of him in his free state.
    </p>
    <p>
      And yet it was precisely the curious fondness of this brute for myself
      that now added to my embarrassments. On two succeeding days I paused
      briefly at Mrs. Judson&rsquo;s in my afternoon strolls, finding the lady as
      wholesomely reposeful as ever in her effect upon my nature, but finding
      the unspeakable dog each time more lavish of his disgusting affection for
      me.
    </p>
    <p>
      Then, one day, when I had made back to the town and was in fact traversing
      the main commercial thoroughfare in a dignified manner, I was made aware
      that the brute had broken away to follow me. Close at my heels he skulked.
      Strong words hissed under my breath would not repulse him, and to blows I
      durst not proceed, for I suddenly divined that his juxtaposition to me was
      exciting amused comment among certain of the natives who observed us. The
      fellow Hobbs, in the doorway of his bake-shop, was especially offensive,
      bursting into a shout of boorish laughter and directing to me the
      attention of a nearby group of loungers, who likewise professed to become
      entertained. So situated, I was of course obliged to affect
      unconsciousness of the awful beast, and he was presently running joyously
      at my side as if secure in my approval, or perhaps his brute intelligence
      divined that for the moment I durst not turn upon him with blows.
    </p>
    <p>
      Nor did the true perversity of the situation at once occur to me. Not
      until we had gained one of the residence avenues did I realize the
      significance of the ill-concealed merriment we had aroused. It was not
      that I had been followed by a random cur, but by one known to be the dog
      of the lady I had called upon. I mean to say, the creature had advertised
      my acquaintance with his owner in a way that would lead base minds to
      misconstrue its extent.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thoroughly maddened by this thought, and being now safely beyond close
      observers, I turned upon the animal to give it a hearty drubbing with my
      stick, but it drew quickly off, as if divining my intention, and when I
      hurled the stick at it, retrieved it, and brought it to me quite as if it
      forgave my hostility. Discovering at length that this method not only
      availed nothing but was bringing faces to neighbouring windows, and that
      it did not the slightest good to speak strongly to the beast, I had
      perforce to accompany it to its home, where I had the satisfaction of
      seeing its owner once more secure it firmly with the rope.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thus far a trivial annoyance one might say, but when the next day the
      creature bounded up to me as I escorted homeward two ladies from the
      Onwards and Upwards Club, leaping upon me with extravagant manifestations
      of delight and trailing a length of gnawed rope, it will be seen that the
      thing was little short of serious.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s Mr. Barker,&rdquo; exclaimed one of the ladies, regarding me brightly.
    </p>
    <p>
      At a cutlery shop I then bought a stout chain, escorted the brute to his
      home, and saw him tethered. The thing was rather getting on me. The
      following morning he waited for me at the Floud door and was beside
      himself with rapture when I appeared. He had slipped his collar. And once
      more I saw him moored. Each time I had apologized to Mrs. Judson for
      seeming to attract her pet from home, for I could not bring myself to say
      that the beast was highly repugnant to me, and least of all could I
      intimate that his public devotion to me would be seized upon by the
      coarser village wits to her disadvantage.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I never saw him so fascinated with any one before,&rdquo; explained the lady as
      she once more adjusted his leash. But that afternoon, as I waited in the
      trap for Mr. Jackson before the post-office, the beast seemed to appear
      from out the earth to leap into the trap beside me. After a rather
      undignified struggle I ejected him, whereupon he followed the trap madly
      to the country club and made a farce of my golf game by retrieving the
      ball after every drive. This time, I learned, the child had released him.
    </p>
    <p>
      It is enough to add that for those remaining days until the present the
      unspeakable creature&rsquo;s mad infatuation for me had made my life well-nigh a
      torment, to say nothing of its being a matter of low public jesting.
      Hardly did I dare show myself in the business centres, for as surely as I
      did the animal found me and crawled to fawn upon me, affecting his release
      each day in some novel manner. Each morning I looked abroad from my window
      on arising, more than likely detecting his outstretched form on the walk
      below, patiently awaiting my appearance, and each night I was liable to
      dreams of his coming upon me, a monstrous creature, sad-faced but eager,
      tireless, resolute, determined to have me for his own.
    </p>
    <p>
      Musing desperately over this impossible state of affairs, I was now
      surprised to receive a letter from the wretched Cousin Egbert, sent by the
      hand of the Tuttle person. It was written in pencil on ruled sheets
      apparently torn from a cheap notebook, quite as if proper pens and decent
      stationery were not to be had, and ran as follows:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
    DEAR FRIEND BILL:

    Well, Bill, I know God hates a quitter, but I guess I got
    a streak of yellow in me wider than the Comstock lode. I was
    kicking at my stirrups even before I seen that bunch of whiskers,
    and when I took a flash of them and seen he was intending I
    should go out before folks without any regular pants on, I says
    I can be pushed just so far. Well, Bill, I beat it like a bat
    out of hell, as I guess you know by this time, and I would like
    to seen them catch me as I had a good bronc. If you know whose
    bronc it was tell him I will make it all O.K. The bronc will be
    all right when he rests up some. Well, Bill, I am here on the
    ranche, where everything is nice, and I would never come back
    unless certain parties agree to do what is right. I would not
    speak pieces that way for the President of the U.S. if he ask
    me to on his bended knees. Well, Bill, I wish you would come
    out here yourself, where everything is nice. You can&rsquo;t tell what
    that bunch of crazies would be wanting you to do next thing with
    false whiskers and no right pants. I would tell them &ldquo;I can be
    pushed just so far, and now I will go out to the ranche with
    Sour-dough for some time, where things are nice.&rdquo; Well, Bill,
    if you will come out Jeff Tuttle will bring you Wednesday when
    he comes with more grub, and you will find everything nice. I
    have told Jeff to bring you, so no more at present, with kind
    regards and hoping to see you here soon.

                          Your true friend,

                                           E.G. FLOUD.

    P.S. Mrs. Effie said she would broaden me out. Maybe she did,
    because I felt pretty flat. Ha! ha!
</pre>
    <p>
      Truth to tell, this wild suggestion at once appealed to me. I had an
      impulse to withdraw for a season from the social whirl, to seek repose
      among the glens and gorges of this cattle plantation, and there try to
      adjust myself more intelligently to my strange new environment. In the
      meantime, I hoped, something might happen to the dog of Mrs. Judson; or he
      might, perhaps, in my absence outlive his curious mania for me.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mrs. Effie, whom I now consulted, after reading the letter of Cousin
      Egbert, proved to be in favour of my going to him to make one last appeal
      to his higher nature.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;If only he&rsquo;d stick out there in the brush where he belongs, I&rsquo;d let him
      stay,&rdquo; she explained. &ldquo;But he won&rsquo;t stick; he gets tired after awhile and
      drops in perhaps on the very night when we&rsquo;re entertaining some of the
      best people at dinner&mdash;and of course we&rsquo;re obliged to have him,
      though he&rsquo;s dropped whatever manners I&rsquo;ve taught him and picked up his old
      rough talk, and he eats until you wonder how he can. It&rsquo;s awful! Sometimes
      I&rsquo;ve wondered if it couldn&rsquo;t be adenoids&mdash;there&rsquo;s a lot of talk about
      those just now&mdash;some very select people have them, and perhaps
      they&rsquo;re what kept him back and made him so hopelessly low in his tastes,
      but I just know he&rsquo;d never go to a doctor about them. For heaven&rsquo;s sake,
      use what influence you have to get him back here and to take his rightful
      place in society.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I had a profound conviction that he would never take his rightful place in
      society, be it the fault of adenoids or whatever; that low passion of his
      for being pally with all sorts made it seem that his sense of values must
      have been at fault from birth, and yet I could not bring myself to abandon
      him utterly, for, as I have intimated, something in the fellow&rsquo;s nature
      appealed to me. I accordingly murmured my sympathy discreetly and set
      about preparations for my journey.
    </p>
    <p>
      Feeling instinctively that Cousin Egbert would not now be dressing for
      dinner, I omitted evening clothes from my box, including only a
      morning-suit and one of form-fitting tweeds which I fancied would do me
      well enough. But no sooner was my box packed than the Tuttle person
      informed me that I could take no box whatever. It appeared that all
      luggage would be strapped to the backs of animals and thus transported.
      Even so, when I had reduced myself to one park riding-suit and a small
      bundle of necessary adjuncts, I was told that the golf-sticks must be left
      behind. It appeared there would be no golf.
    </p>
    <p>
      And so quite early one morning I started on this curious pilgrimage from
      what was called a &ldquo;feed corral&rdquo; in a low part of the town. Here the Tuttle
      person had assembled a goods-train of a half-dozen animals, the luggage
      being adjusted to their backs by himself and two assistants, all using
      language of the most disgraceful character throughout the process. The
      Tuttle person I had half expected to appear garbed in his native dress&mdash;Mrs.
      Effie had once more referred to &ldquo;that Indian Jeff Tuttle&rdquo;&mdash;but he
      wore instead, as did his two assistants, the outing or lounge suit of the
      Western desperado, nor, though I listened closely, could I hear him
      exclaim, &ldquo;Ugh! Ugh!&rdquo; in moments of emotional stress as my reading had
      informed me that the Indian frequently does.
    </p>
    <p>
      The two assistants, solemn-faced, ill-groomed fellows, bore the curious
      American names of Hank and Buck, and furiously chewed the tobacco plant at
      all times. After betraying a momentary interest in my smart riding-suit,
      they paid me little attention, at which I was well pleased, for their
      manners were often repellent and their abrupt, direct fashion of speech
      quite disconcerting.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Tuttle person welcomed me heartily and himself adjusted the saddle to
      my mount, expressing the hope that I would &ldquo;get my fill of scenery,&rdquo; and
      volunteering the information that my destination was &ldquo;one sleep&rdquo; away.
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER ELEVEN
    </h2>
    <p>
      Although fond of rural surroundings and always interested in nature, the
      adventure in which I had become involved is not one I can recommend to a
      person of refined tastes. I found it little enough to my own taste even
      during the first two hours of travel when we kept to the beaten
      thoroughfare, for the sun was hot, the dust stifling, and the language
      with which the goods-animals were berated coarse in the extreme.
    </p>
    <p>
      Yet from this plain roadway and a country of rolling down and heather
      which was at least not terrifying, our leader, the Tuttle person, swerved
      all at once into an untried jungle, in what at the moment I supposed to be
      a fit of absent-mindedness, following a narrow path that led up a
      fearsomely slanted incline among trees and boulders of granite thrown
      about in the greatest disorder. He was followed, however, by the
      goods-animals and by the two cow-persons, so that I soon saw the new
      course must be intended.
    </p>
    <p>
      The mountains were now literally quite everywhere, some higher than
      others, but all of a rough appearance, and uninviting in the extreme. The
      narrow path, moreover, became more and more difficult, and seemed
      altogether quite insane with its twistings and fearsome declivities. One&rsquo;s
      first thought was that at least a bit of road-metal might have been put
      upon it. But there was no sign of this throughout our toilsome day, nor
      did I once observe a rustic seat along the way, although I saw an
      abundance of suitable nooks for these. Needless to say, in all England
      there is not an estate so poorly kept up.
    </p>
    <p>
      There being no halt made for luncheon, I began to look forward to
      tea-time, but what was my dismay to observe that this hour also passed
      unnoted. Not until night was drawing upon us did our caravan halt beside a
      tarn, and here I learned that we would sup and sleep, although it was
      distressing to observe how remote we were from proper surroundings. There
      was no shelter and no modern conveniences; not even a wash-hand-stand or
      water-jug. There was, of course, no central heating, and no electricity
      for one&rsquo;s smoothing-iron, so that one&rsquo;s clothing must become quite
      disreputable for want of pressing. Also the informal manner of cooking and
      eating was not what I had been accustomed to, and the idea of sleeping
      publicly on the bare ground was repugnant in the extreme. I mean to say,
      there was no <i>vie intime</i>. Truly it was a coarser type of wilderness
      than that which I had encountered near New York City.
    </p>
    <p>
      The animals, being unladen, were fitted with a species of leather bracelet
      about their forefeet and allowed to stray at their will. A fire was built
      and coarse food made ready. It is hardly a thing to speak of, but their
      manner of preparing tea was utterly depraved, the leaves being flung into
      a tin of boiling water and allowed to <i>stew</i>. The result was
      something that I imagine etchers might use in making lines upon their
      metal plates. But for my day&rsquo;s fast I should have been unequal to this, or
      to the crude output of their frying-pans.
    </p>
    <p>
      Yet I was indeed glad that no sign of my dismay had escaped me, for the
      cow-persons, Hank and Buck, as I discovered, had given unusual care to the
      repast on my account, and I should not have liked to seem unappreciative.
      Quite by accident I overheard the honest fellows quarrelling about an
      oversight: they had, it seemed, left the finger-bowls behind; each was
      bitterly blaming the other for this, seeming to feel that the meal could
      not go forward. I had not to be told that they would not ordinarily carry
      finger-bowls for their own use, and that the forgotten utensils must have
      been meant solely for my comfort. Accordingly, when the quarrel was at its
      highest I broke in upon it, protesting that the oversight was of no
      consequence, and that I was quite prepared to roughen it with them in the
      best of good fellowship. They were unable to conceal their chagrin at my
      having overheard them, and slunk off abashed to the cooking-fire. It was
      plain that under their repellent exteriors they concealed veins of the
      finest chivalry, and I took pains during the remainder of the evening to
      put them at their ease, asking them many questions about their wild life.
    </p>
    <p>
      Of the dangers of the jungle by which we were surrounded the most
      formidable, it seemed, was not the grizzly bear, of which I had read, but
      an animal quaintly called the &ldquo;high-behind,&rdquo; which lurks about
      camping-places such as ours and is often known to attack man in its search
      for tinned milk of which it is inordinately fond. The spoor of one of
      these beasts had been detected near our campfire by the cow-person called
      Buck, and he now told us of it, though having at first resolved to be
      silent rather than alarm us.
    </p>
    <p>
      As we carried a supply of the animal&rsquo;s favourite food, I was given two of
      the tins with instructions to hurl them quickly at any high-behind that
      might approach during the night, my companions arming themselves in a
      similar manner. It appears that the beast has tushes similar in shape to
      tin openers with which it deftly bites into any tins of milk that may be
      thrown at it. The person called Hank had once escaped with his life only
      by means of a tin of milk which had caught on the sabrelike tushes of the
      animal pursuing him, thus rendering him harmless and easy of capture.
    </p>
    <p>
      Needless to say, I was greatly interested in this animal of the quaint
      name, and resolved to remain on watch during the night in the hope of
      seeing one, but at this juncture we were rejoined by the Tuttle person,
      who proceeded to recount to Hank and Buck a highly coloured version of my
      regrettable encounter with Mr. C. Belknap-Jackson back in the New York
      wilderness, whereat they both lost interest in the high-behind and greatly
      embarrassed me with their congratulations upon this lesser matter. Cousin
      Egbert, it seemed, had most indiscreetly talked of the thing, which was
      now a matter of common gossip in Red Gap. Thereafter I could get from them
      no further information about the habits of the high-behind, nor did I
      remain awake to watch for one as I had resolved to, the fatigues of the
      day proving too much for me. But doubtless none approached during the
      night, as the two tins of milk with which I was armed were untouched when
      I awoke at dawn.
    </p>
    <p>
      Again we set off after a barbarous breakfast, driving our laden animals
      ever deeper into the mountain fastness, until it seemed that none of us
      could ever emerge, for I had ascertained that there was not a compass in
      the party. There was now a certain new friendliness in the manner of the
      two cow-persons toward me, born, it would seem, of their knowledge of my
      assault upon Belknap-Jackson, and I was somewhat at a loss to know how to
      receive this, well intentioned though it was. I mean to say, they were
      undoubtedly of the servant-class, and of course one must remember one&rsquo;s
      own position, but I at length decided to be quite friendly and American
      with them.
    </p>
    <p>
      The truth must be told that I was now feeling in quite a bit of a funk and
      should have welcomed any friendship offered me; I even found myself
      remembering with rather a pensive tolerance the attentions of Mr. Barker,
      though doubtless back in Red Gap I should have found them as loathsome as
      ever. My hump was due, I made no doubt, first, to my precarious position
      in the wilderness, but more than that to my anomalous social position, for
      it seemed to me now that I was neither fish nor fowl. I was no longer a
      gentleman&rsquo;s man&mdash;the familiar boundaries of that office had been
      swept away; on the other hand, I was most emphatically not the gentleman I
      had set myself up to be, and I was weary of the pretence. The friendliness
      of these uncouth companions, then, proved doubly welcome, for with them I
      could conduct myself in a natural manner, happily forgetting my former
      limitations and my present quite fictitious dignities.
    </p>
    <p>
      I even found myself talking to them of cricket as we rode, telling them I
      had once hit an eight&mdash;fully run out it was and not an overthrow&mdash;though
      I dare say it meant little to them. I also took pains to describe to them
      the correct method of brewing tea, which they promised thereafter to
      observe, though this I fear they did from mere politeness.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our way continued adventurously upward until mid-afternoon, when we began
      an equally adventurous descent through a jungle of pine trees, not a few
      of which would have done credit to one of our own parks, though there
      were, of course, too many of them here to be at all effective. Indeed, it
      may be said that from a scenic standpoint everything through which we had
      passed was overdone: mountains, rocks, streams, trees, all sounding a
      characteristic American note of exaggeration.
    </p>
    <p>
      Then at last we came to the wilderness abode of Cousin Egbert. A rude hut
      of native logs it was, set in this highland glen beside a tarn. From afar
      we descried its smoke, and presently in the doorway observed Cousin Egbert
      himself, who waved cheerfully at us. His appearance gave me a shock. Quite
      aware of his inclination to laxness, I was yet unprepared for his present
      state. Never, indeed, have I seen a man so badly turned out. Too evidently
      unshaven since his disappearance, he was gotten up in a faded flannel
      shirt, open at the neck and without the sign of cravat, a pair of
      overalls, also faded and quite wretchedly spotty, and boots of the most
      shocking description. Yet in spite of this dreadful tenue he greeted me
      without embarrassment and indeed with a kind of artless pleasure. Truly
      the man was impossible, and when I observed the placard he had allowed to
      remain on the waistband of his overalls, boastfully alleging their
      indestructibility, my sympathies flew back to Mrs. Effie. There was a
      cartoon emblazoned on this placard, depicting the futile efforts of two
      teams of stout horses, each attached to a leg of the garment, to wrench it
      in twain. I mean to say, one might be reduced to overalls, but this
      blatant emblem was not a thing any gentleman need have retained. And
      again, observing his footgear, I was glad to recall that I had included a
      plentiful supply of boot-cream in my scanty luggage.
    </p>
    <p>
      Three of the goods-animals were now unladen, their burden of provisions
      being piled beside the door while Cousin Egbert chatted gayly with the
      cow-persons and the Indian Tuttle, after which these three took their
      leave, being madly bent, it appeared, upon penetrating still farther into
      the wilderness to another cattle farm. Then, left alone with Cousin
      Egbert, I was not long in discovering that, strictly speaking, he had no
      establishment. Not only were there no servants, but there were no drains,
      no water-taps, no ice-machine, no scullery, no central heating, no
      electric wiring. His hut consisted of but a single room, and this without
      a floor other than the packed earth, while the appointments were such as
      in any civilized country would have indicated the direst poverty. Two beds
      of the rudest description stood in opposite corners, and one end of the
      room was almost wholly occupied by a stone fireplace of primitive
      construction, over which the owner now hovered in certain feats of
      cookery.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thanks to my famished state I was in no mood to criticise his efforts,
      which he presently set forth upon the rough deal table in a hearty but
      quite inelegant manner. The meal, I am bound to say, was more than welcome
      to my now indiscriminating palate, though at a less urgent moment I should
      doubtless have found the bread soggy and the beans a pernicious mass.
      There was a stew of venison, however, which only the most skilful hands
      could have bettered, though how the man had obtained a deer was beyond me,
      since it was evident he possessed no shooting or deer-stalking costume. As
      to the tea, I made bold to speak my mind and succeeded in brewing some for
      myself.
    </p>
    <p>
      Throughout the repast Cousin Egbert was constantly attentive to my needs
      and was more cheerful of demeanour than I had ever seen him. The hunted
      look about his eyes, which had heretofore always distinguished him, was
      now gone, and he bore himself like a free man.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; he said, as we smoked over the remains of the meal, &ldquo;you stay
      with me and I&rsquo;ll give you one swell little time. I&rsquo;ll do the cooking, and
      between whiles we can sit right here and play cribbage day in and day out.
      You can get a taste of real life without moving.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I saw then, if never before, that his deeper nature would not be aroused.
      Doubtless my passing success with him in Paris had marked the very highest
      stage of his spiritual development. I did not need to be told now that he
      had left off sock-suspenders forever, nor did I waste words in trying to
      recall him to his better self. Indeed for the moment I was too overwhelmed
      by fatigue even to remonstrate about his wretched lounge-suit, and I early
      fell asleep on one of the beds while he was still engaged in washing the
      metal dishes upon which we had eaten, singing the while the doleful ballad
      of &ldquo;Rosalie, the Prairie Flower.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      It seemed but a moment later that I awoke, for Cousin Egbert was again
      busy among the dishes, but I saw that another day had come and his song
      had changed to one equally sad but quite different. &ldquo;In the hazel dell my
      Nellie&rsquo;s sleeping,&rdquo; he sang, though in a low voice and quite cheerfully.
      Indeed his entire repertoire of ballads was confined to the saddest
      themes, chiefly of desirable maidens taken off untimely either by disease
      or accident. Besides &ldquo;Rosalie, the Prairie Flower,&rdquo; there was &ldquo;Lovely
      Annie Lisle,&rdquo; over whom the willows waved and earthly music could not
      waken; another named &ldquo;Sweet Alice Ben Bolt&rdquo; lying in the churchyard, and
      still another, &ldquo;Lily Dale,&rdquo; who was pictured &ldquo;&lsquo;neath the trees in the
      flowery vale,&rdquo; with the wild rose blossoming o&rsquo;er the little green grave.
    </p>
    <p>
      His face was indeed sad as he rendered these woful ballads and yet his
      voice and manner were of the cheeriest, and I dare say he sang without
      reference to their real tragedy. It was a school of American balladry
      quite at variance with the cheerful optimism of those I had heard from the
      Belknap-Jackson phonograph, where the persons are not dead at all but are
      gayly calling upon one another to come on and do a folkdance, or hear a
      band or crawl under&mdash;things of that sort. As Cousin Egbert bent over
      a frying pan in which ham was cooking he crooned softly:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
    &ldquo;In the hazel dell my Nellie&rsquo;s sleeping,
      Nellie loved so long,
    While my lonely, lonely watch I&rsquo;m keeping,
      Nellie lost and gone.&rdquo;
 </pre>
    <p>
      I could attribute his choice only to that natural perversity which
      prompted him always to do the wrong thing, for surely this affecting verse
      was not meant to be sung at such a moment.
    </p>
    <p>
      Attempting to arise, I became aware that the two days&rsquo; journey had left me
      sadly lame and wayworn, also that my face was burned from the sun and that
      I had been awakened too soon. Fortunately I had with me a shilling jar of
      Ridley&rsquo;s Society Complexion Food, &ldquo;the all-weather wonder,&rdquo; which I
      applied to my face with cooling results, and I then felt able to partake
      of a bit of the breakfast which Cousin Egbert now brought to my bedside.
      The ham was of course not cooked correctly and the tea was again a mere
      corrosive, but so anxious was my host to please me that I refrained from
      any criticism, though at another time I should have told him straight what
      I thought of such cookery.
    </p>
    <p>
      When we had both eaten I slept again to the accompaniment of another sad
      song and the muted rattle of the pans as Cousin Egbert did the scullery
      work, and it was long past the luncheon hour when I awoke, still lame from
      the saddle, but greatly refreshed.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was now that another blow befell me, for upon arising and searching
      through my kit I discovered that my razors had been left behind. By any
      thinking man the effect of this oversight will be instantly perceived.
      Already low in spirits, the prospect of going unshaven could but aggravate
      my funk. I surrendered to the wave of homesickness that swept over me. I
      wanted London again, London with its yellow fog and greasy pavements, I
      wished to buy cockles off a barrow, I longed for toasted crumpets, and
      most of all I longed for my old rightful station; longed to turn out a
      gentleman, longed for the Honourable George and our peaceful if sometimes
      precarious existence among people of the right sort. The continued shocks
      since that fateful night of the cards had told upon me. I knew now that I
      had not been meant for adventure. Yet here I had turned up in the most
      savage of lands after leading a life of dishonest pretence in a station to
      which I had not been born&mdash;and, for I knew not how many days, I
      should not be able to shave my face.
    </p>
    <p>
      But here again a ferment stirred in my blood, some electric thrill of
      anarchy which had come from association with these Americans, a strange,
      lawless impulse toward their quite absurd ideals of equality, a monstrous
      ambition to be in myself some one that mattered, instead of that pretended
      Colonel Ruggles who, I now recalled, was to-day promised to bridge at the
      home of Mrs. Judge Ballard, where he would talk of hunting in the shires,
      of the royal enclosure at Ascot, of Hurlingham and Ranleigh, of Cowes in
      June, of the excellence of the converts at Chaynes-Wotten. No doubt it was
      a sort of madness now seized me, consequent upon the lack of shaving
      utensils.
    </p>
    <p>
      I wondered desperately if there was a true place for me in this life. I
      had tasted their equality that day of debauch in Paris, but obviously the
      sensation could not permanently be maintained upon spirits. Perhaps I
      might obtain a post in a bank; I might become a shop-assistant, bag-man,
      even a pressman. These moody and unwholesome thoughts were clouding my
      mind as I surveyed myself in the wrinkled mirror which had seemed to
      suffice the uncritical Cousin Egbert for his toilet. It hung between the
      portrait of a champion middle-weight crouching in position and the
      calendar advertisement of a brewery which, as I could not fancy Cousin
      Egbert being in the least concerned about the day of the month, had too
      evidently been hung on his wall because of the coloured lithograph of a
      blond creature in theatrical undress who smirked most immorally.
    </p>
    <p>
      Studying the curiously wavy effect this glass produced upon my face, I
      chanced to observe in a corner of the frame a printed card with the
      heading &ldquo;Take Courage!&rdquo; To my surprise the thing, when I had read it,
      capped my black musings upon my position in a rather uncanny way. Briefly
      it recited the humble beginnings of a score or more of the world&rsquo;s notable
      figures.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Demosthenes was the son of a cutler,&rdquo; it began. &ldquo;Horace was the son of a
      shopkeeper. Virgil&rsquo;s father was a porter. Cardinal Wolsey was the son of a
      butcher. Shakespeare the son of a wool-stapler.&rdquo; Followed the obscure
      parentage of such well-known persons as Milton, Napoleon, Columbus,
      Cromwell. Even Mohammed was noted as a shepherd and camel-driver, though
      it seemed rather questionable taste to include in the list one whose
      religion, as to family life, was rather scandalous. More to the point was
      the citation of various Americans who had sprung from humble beginnings:
      Lincoln, Johnson, Grant, Garfield, Edison. It is true that there was not,
      apparently, a gentleman&rsquo;s servant among them; they were rail-splitters,
      boatmen, tailors, artisans of sorts, but the combined effect was rather
      overwhelming.
    </p>
    <p>
      From the first moment of my encountering the American social system, it
      seemed, I had been by way of becoming a rabid anarchist&mdash;that is, one
      feeling that he might become a gentleman regardless of his birth&mdash;and
      here were the disconcerting facts concerning a score of notables to
      confirm me in my heresy. It was not a thing to be spoken lightly of in
      loose discussion, but there can be no doubt that at this moment I coldly
      questioned the soundness of our British system, the vital marrow of which
      is to teach that there is a difference between men and men. To be sure, it
      will have been seen that I was not myself, having for a quarter year been
      subjected to a series of nervous shocks, and having had my mind
      contaminated, moreover, by being brought into daily contact with this
      unthinking American equality in the person of Cousin Egbert, who, I make
      bold to assert, had never for one instant since his doubtless obscure
      birth considered himself the superior of any human being whatsoever.
    </p>
    <p>
      This much I advance for myself in extenuation of my lawless imaginings,
      but of them I can abate no jot; it was all at once clear to me, monstrous
      as it may seem, that Nature and the British Empire were at variance in
      their decrees, and that somehow a system was base which taught that one
      man is necessarily inferior to another. I dare say it was a sort of
      poisonous intoxication&mdash;that I should all at once declare:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;His lordship tenth Earl of Brinstead and Marmaduke Ruggles are two men;
      one has made an acceptable peer and one an acceptable valet, yet the twain
      are equal, and the system which has made one inferior socially to the
      other is false and bad and cannot endure.&rdquo; For a moment, I repeat, I saw
      myself a gentleman in the making&mdash;a clear fairway without bunkers
      from tee to green&mdash;meeting my equals with a friendly eye; and then
      the illumining shock, for I unconsciously added to myself, &ldquo;Regarding my
      inferiors with a kindly tolerance.&rdquo; It was there I caught myself. So much
      a part of the system was I that, although I could readily conceive a
      society in which I had no superiors, I could not picture one in which I
      had not inferiors. The same poison that ran in the veins of their
      lordships ran also in the veins of their servants. I was indeed, it
      appeared, hopelessly inoculated. Again I read the card. Horace was the son
      of a shopkeeper, but I made no doubt that, after he became a popular and
      successful writer of Latin verse, he looked down upon his own father. Only
      could it have been otherwise, I thought, had he been born in this
      fermenting America to no station whatever and left to achieve his rightful
      one.
    </p>
    <p>
      So I mused thus licentiously until one clear conviction possessed me: that
      I would no longer pretend to the social superiority of one Colonel
      Marmaduke Ruggles. I would concede no inferiority in myself, but I would
      not again, before Red Gap&rsquo;s county families vaunt myself as other than I
      was. That this was more than a vagrant fancy on my part will be seen when
      I aver that suddenly, strangely, alarmingly, I no longer cared that I was
      unshaven and must remain so for an untold number of days. I welcomed the
      unhandsome stubble that now projected itself upon my face; I curiously
      wished all at once to be as badly gotten up as Cousin Egbert, with as
      little thought for my station in life. I would no longer refrain from
      doing things because they were &ldquo;not done.&rdquo; My own taste would be the law.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was at this moment that Cousin Egbert appeared in the doorway with four
      trout from the stream nearby, though how he had managed to snare them I
      could not think, since he possessed no correct equipment for angling. I
      fancy I rather overwhelmed him by exclaiming, &ldquo;Hello, Sour-dough!&rdquo; since
      never before had I addressed him in any save a formal fashion, and it is
      certain I embarrassed him by my next proceeding, which was to grasp his
      hand and shake it heartily, an action that I could explain no more than
      he, except that the violence of my self-communion was still upon me and
      required an outlet. He grinned amiably, then regarded me with a shrewd eye
      and demanded if I had been drinking.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;This,&rdquo; I said; &ldquo;I am drunk with this,&rdquo; and held the card up to him. But
      when he took it interestedly he merely read the obverse side which I had
      not observed until now. &ldquo;Go to Epstein&rsquo;s for Everything You Wear,&rdquo; it said
      in large type, and added, &ldquo;The Square Deal Mammoth Store.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;They carry a nice stock,&rdquo; he said, still a bit puzzled by my tone,
      &ldquo;though I generally trade at the Red Front.&rdquo; I turned the card over for
      him and he studied the list of humble-born notables, though from a point
      of view peculiarly his own. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;what right they got
      to rake up all that stuff about people that&rsquo;s dead and gone. Who cares
      what their folks was!&rdquo; And he added, &ldquo;&lsquo;Horace was the son of a shopkeeper&rsquo;&mdash;Horace
      who?&rdquo; Plainly the matter did not excite him, and I saw it would be useless
      to try to convey to him what the items had meant to me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I mean to say, I&rsquo;m glad to be here with you,&rdquo; I said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I knew you&rsquo;d like it,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;Everything is nice here.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;America is some country,&rdquo; I said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;She is, she is,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;And now you can bile up a pot of tea in
      your own way while I clean these here fish for sapper.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I made the tea. I regret to say there was not a tea cozy in the place;
      indeed the linen, silver, and general table equipment were sadly
      deficient, but in my reckless mood I made no comment.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Your tea smells good, but it ain&rsquo;t got no kick to it,&rdquo; he observed over
      his first cup. &ldquo;When I drench my insides with tea I sort of want it to
      take a hold.&rdquo; And still I made no effort to set him right. I now saw that
      in all true essentials he did not need me to set him right. For so uncouth
      a person he was strangely commendable and worthy.
    </p>
    <p>
      As we sipped our tea in companionable silence, I busy with my new and
      disturbing thoughts, a long shout came to us from the outer distance.
      Cousin Egbert brightened.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m darned if that ain&rsquo;t Ma Pettengill!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s rid over
      from the Arrowhead.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      We rushed to the door, and in the distance, riding down upon us at
      terrific speed, I indeed beheld the Mixer. A moment later she reigned in
      her horse before us and hoarsely rumbled her greetings. I had last seen
      her at a formal dinner where she was rather formidably done out in black
      velvet and diamonds. Now she appeared in a startling tenue of khaki
      riding-breeches and flannel shirt, with one of the wide-brimmed cow-person
      hats. Even at the moment of greeting her I could not but reflect how
      shocked our dear Queen would be at the sight of this riding habit.
    </p>
    <p>
      She dismounted with hearty explanations of how she had left her &ldquo;round-up&rdquo;
       and ridden over to visit, having heard from the Tuttle person that we were
      here. Cousin Egbert took her horse and she entered the hut, where to my
      utter amazement she at once did a feminine thing. Though from her garb one
      at a little distance might have thought her a man, a portly, florid,
      carelessly attired man, she made at once for the wrinkled mirror where,
      after anxiously scanning her burned face for an instant, she produced
      powder and puff from a pocket of her shirt and daintily powdered her
      generous blob of a nose. Having achieved this to her apparent
      satisfaction, she unrolled a bundle she had carried at her saddle and
      donned a riding skirt, buttoning it about the waist and smoothing down its
      folds&mdash;before I could retire.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;There, now,&rdquo; she boomed, as if some satisfying finality had been brought
      about. Such was the Mixer. That sort of thing would never do with us, and
      yet I suddenly saw that she, like Cousin Egbert, was strangely commendable
      and worthy. I mean to say, I no longer felt it was my part to set her
      right in any of the social niceties. Some curious change had come upon me.
      I knew then that I should no longer resist America.
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER TWELVE
    </h2>
    <p>
      With a curious friendly glow upon me I set about helping Cousin Egbert in
      the preparation of our evening meal, a work from which, owing to the
      number and apparent difficulty of my suggestions, he presently withdrew,
      leaving me in entire charge. It is quite true that I have pronounced views
      as to the preparation and serving of food, and I dare say I embarrassed
      the worthy fellow without at all meaning to do so, for too many of his
      culinary efforts betray the fumbling touch of the amateur. And as I worked
      over the open fire, doing the trout to a turn, stirring the beans, and
      perfecting the stew with deft touches of seasoning, I worded to myself for
      the first time a most severe indictment against the North American
      cookery, based upon my observations across the continent and my experience
      as a diner-out in Red Gap.
    </p>
    <p>
      I saw that it would never do with us, and that it ought, as a matter of
      fact, to be uplifted. Even then, while our guest chattered gossip of the
      town over her brown paper cigarettes, I felt the stirring of an impulse to
      teach Americans how to do themselves better at table. For the moment, of
      course, I was hampered by lack of equipment (there was not even a fish
      slice in the establishment), but even so I brewed proper tea and was able
      to impart to the simple viands a touch of distinction which they had
      lacked under Cousin Egbert&rsquo;s all-too-careless manipulation.
    </p>
    <p>
      As I served the repast Cousin Egbert produced a bottle of the brown
      American whiskey at which we pegged a bit before sitting to table.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Three rousing cheers!&rdquo; said he, and the Mixer responded with &ldquo;Happy
      days!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      As on that former occasion, the draught of spirits flooded my being with a
      vast consciousness of personal worth and of good feeling toward my
      companions. With a true insight I suddenly perceived that one might belong
      to the great lower middle-class in America and still matter in the truest,
      correctest sense of the term.
    </p>
    <p>
      As we fell hungrily to the food, the Mixer did not fail to praise my
      cooking of the trout, and she and Cousin Egbert were presently lamenting
      the difficulty of obtaining a well-cooked meal in Red Gap. At this I
      boldly spoke up, declaring that American cookery lacked constructive
      imagination, making only the barest use of its magnificent opportunities,
      following certain beaten and all-too-familiar roads with a slavish
      stupidity.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;We nearly had a good restaurant,&rdquo; said the Mixer. &ldquo;A Frenchman came and
      showed us a little flash of form, but he only lasted a month because he
      got homesick. He had half the people in town going there for dinner, too,
      to get away from their Chinamen&mdash;and after I spent a lot of money
      fixing the place up for him, too.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I recalled the establishment, on the main street, though I had not known
      that our guest was its owner. Vacant it was now, and looking quite as if
      the bailiffs had been in.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He couldn&rsquo;t cook ham and eggs proper,&rdquo; suggested Cousin Egbert. &ldquo;I tried
      him three times, and every time he done something French to &lsquo;em that
      nobody had ought to do to ham and eggs.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Hereupon I ventured to assert that a too-intense nationalism would prove
      the ruin of any chef outside his own country; there must be a certain
      breadth of treatment, a blending of the best features of different
      schools. One must know English and French methods and yet be a slave to
      neither; one must even know American cookery and be prepared to adapt its
      half-dozen or so undoubted excellencies. From this I ventured further into
      a general criticism of the dinners I had eaten at Red Gap&rsquo;s smartest
      houses. Too profuse they were, I said, and too little satisfying in any
      one feature; too many courses, constructed, as I had observed, after
      photographs printed in the back pages of women&rsquo;s magazines; doubtless they
      possessed a certain artistic value as sights for the eye, but considered
      as food they were devoid of any inner meaning.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Bill&rsquo;s right,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert warmly. &ldquo;Mrs. Effie, she gets up about
      nine of them pictures, with nuts and grated eggs and scrambled tomatoes
      all over &lsquo;em, and nobody knowing what&rsquo;s what, and even when you strike one
      that tastes good they&rsquo;s only a dab of it and you mustn&rsquo;t ask for any more.
      When I go out to dinner, what I want is to have &lsquo;em say, &lsquo;Pass up your
      plate, Mr. Floud, for another piece of the steak and some potatoes, and
      have some more squash and help yourself to the quince jelly.&rsquo; That&rsquo;s how
      it had ought to be, but I keep eatin&rsquo; these here little plates of cut-up
      things and waiting for the real stuff, and first thing I know I get a
      spoonful of coffee in something like you put eye medicine into, and I know
      it&rsquo;s all over. Last time I was out I hid up a dish of these here salted
      almuns under a fern and et the whole lot from time to time, kind of absent
      like. It helped some, but it wasn&rsquo;t dinner.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Same here,&rdquo; put in the Mixer, saturating half a slice of bread in the
      sauce of the stew. &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t afford to act otherwise than like I am a lady
      at one of them dinners, but the minute I&rsquo;m home I beat it for the icebox.
      I suppose it&rsquo;s all right to be socially elegant, but we hadn&rsquo;t ought to
      let it contaminate our food none. And even at that New York hotel this
      summer you had to make trouble to get fed proper. I wanted strawberry
      shortcake, and what do you reckon they dealt me? A thing looking like a
      marble palace&mdash;sponge cake and whipped cream with a few red spots in
      between. Well, long as we&rsquo;re friends here together, I may say that I
      raised hell until I had the chef himself up and told him exactly what to
      do; biscuit dough baked and prized apart and buttered, strawberries with
      sugar on &lsquo;em in between and on top, and plenty of regular cream. Well,
      after three days&rsquo; trying he finally managed to get simple&mdash;he just
      couldn&rsquo;t believe I meant it at first, and kept building on the whipped
      cream&mdash;and the thing cost eight dollars, but you can bet he had me,
      even then; the bonehead smarty had sweetened the cream and grated nutmeg
      into it. I give up.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And if you can&rsquo;t get right food in New York, how can you expect to here?
      And Jackson, the idiot, has just fired the only real cook in Red Gap. Yes,
      sir; he&rsquo;s let the coons go. It come out that Waterman had sneaked out that
      suit of his golf clothes that Kate Kenner wore in the minstrel show, so he
      fired them both, and now I got to support &lsquo;em, because, as long as we&rsquo;re
      friends here, I don&rsquo;t mind telling you I egged the coon on to do it.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I saw that she was referring to the black and his wife whom I had met at
      the New York camp, though it seemed quaint to me that they should be
      called &ldquo;coons,&rdquo; which is, I take it, a diminutive for &ldquo;raccoon,&rdquo; a species
      of ground game to be found in America.
    </p>
    <p>
      Truth to tell, I enjoyed myself immensely at this simple but satisfying
      meal, feeling myself one with these homely people, and I was sorry when we
      had finished.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;That was some little dinner itself,&rdquo; said the Mixer as she rolled a
      cigarette; &ldquo;and now you boys set still while I do up the dishes.&rdquo; Nor
      would she allow either of us to assist her in this work. When she had
      done, Cousin Egbert proceeded to mix hot toddies from the whiskey, and we
      gathered about the table before the open fire.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Now we&rsquo;ll have a nice home evening,&rdquo; said the Mixer, and to my great
      embarrassment she began at once to speak to myself.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A strong man like him has got no business becoming a social butterfly,&rdquo;
       she remarked to Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Oh, Bill&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; insisted the latter, as he had done so many times
      before.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s all right so far, but let him go on for a year or so and he won&rsquo;t be
      a darned bit better than what Jackson is, mark my words. Just a social
      butterfly, wearing funny clothes and attending afternoon affairs.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, I don&rsquo;t say you ain&rsquo;t right,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert thoughtfully;
      &ldquo;that&rsquo;s one reason I got him out here where everything is nice. What with
      speaking pieces like an actor, I was afraid they&rsquo;d have him making more
      kinds of a fool of himself than what Jackson does, him being a foreigner,
      and his mind kind o&rsquo; running on what clothes a man had ought to wear.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Hereupon, so flushed was I with the good feeling of the occasion, I told
      them straight that I had resolved to quit being Colonel Ruggles of the
      British army and associate of the nobility; that I had determined to
      forget all class distinctions and to become one of themselves, plain,
      simple, and unpretentious. It is true that I had consumed two of the hot
      grogs, but my mind was clear enough, and both my companions applauded this
      resolution.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;If he can just get his mind off clothes for a bit he might amount to
      something,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert, and it will scarcely be credited, but at
      the moment I felt actually grateful to him for this admission.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll think about his case,&rdquo; said the Mixer, taking her own second toddy,
      whereupon the two fell to talking of other things, chiefly of their cattle
      plantations and the price of beef-stock, which then seemed to be six and
      one half, though what this meant I had no notion. Also I gathered that the
      Mixer at her own cattle-farm had been watching her calves marked with her
      monogram, though I would never have credited her with so much sentiment.
    </p>
    <p>
      When the retiring hour came, Cousin Egbert and I prepared to take our
      blankets outside to sleep, but the Mixer would have none of this.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The last time I slept in here,&rdquo; she remarked, &ldquo;mice was crawling over me
      all night, so you keep your shack and I&rsquo;ll bed down outside. I ain&rsquo;t
      afraid of mice, understand, but I don&rsquo;t like to feel their feet on my
      face.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      And to my great dismay, though Cousin Egbert took it calmly enough, she
      took a roll of blankets and made a crude pallet on the ground outside,
      under a spreading pine tree. I take it she was that sort. The least I
      could do was to secure two tins of milk from our larder and place them
      near her cot, in case of some lurking high-behind, though I said nothing
      of this, not wishing to alarm her needlessly.
    </p>
    <p>
      Inside the hut Cousin Egbert and I partook of a final toddy before
      retiring. He was unusually thoughtful and I had difficulty in persuading
      him to any conversation. Thus having noted a bearskin before my bed, I
      asked him if he had killed the animal.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said he shortly, &ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t lie for a bear as small as that.&rdquo; As he
      was again silent, I made no further approaches to him.
    </p>
    <p>
      From my first sleep I was awakened by a long, booming yell from our guest
      outside. Cousin Egbert and I reached the door at the same time.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got it!&rdquo; bellowed the Mixer, and we went out to her in the chill
      night. She sat up with the blankets muffled about her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;We start Bill in that restaurant,&rdquo; she began. &ldquo;It come to me in a flash.
      I judge he&rsquo;s got the right ideas, and Waterman and his wife can cook for
      him.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Bully!&rdquo; exclaimed Cousin Egbert. &ldquo;I was thinking he ought to have a
      gents&rsquo; furnishing store, on account of his mind running to dress, but you
      got the best idea.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll stake him to the rent,&rdquo; she put in.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And I&rsquo;ll stake him to the rest,&rdquo; exclaimed Cousin Egbert delightedly,
      and, strange as it may seem, I suddenly saw myself a licensed victualler.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll call it the &lsquo;United States Grill,&rsquo;&rdquo; I said suddenly, as if by
      inspiration.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Three rousing cheers for the U.S. Grill!&rdquo; shouted Cousin Egbert to the
      surrounding hills, and repairing to the hut he brought out hot toddies
      with which we drank success to the new enterprise. For a half-hour, I dare
      say, we discussed details there in the cold night, not seeing that it was
      quite preposterously bizarre. Returning to the hut at last, Cousin Egbert
      declared himself so chilled that he must have another toddy before
      retiring, and, although I was already feeling myself the equal of any
      American, I consented to join him.
    </p>
    <p>
      Just before retiring again my attention centred a second time upon the
      bearskin before my bed and, forgetting that I had already inquired about
      it, I demanded of him if he had killed the animal. &ldquo;Sure,&rdquo; said he;
      &ldquo;killed it with one shot just as it was going to claw me. It was an awful
      big one.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Morning found the three of us engrossed with the new plan, and by the time
      our guest rode away after luncheon the thing was well forward and I had
      the Mixer&rsquo;s order upon her estate agent at Red Gap for admission to the
      vacant premises. During the remainder of the day, between games of
      cribbage, Cousin Egbert and I discussed the venture. And it was now that I
      began to foresee a certain difficulty.
    </p>
    <p>
      How, I asked myself, would the going into trade of Colonel Marmaduke
      Ruggles be regarded by those who had been his social sponsors in Red Gap?
      I mean to say, would not Mrs. Effie and the Belknap-Jacksons feel that I
      had played them false? Had I not given them the right to believe that I
      should continue, during my stay in their town, to be one whom their county
      families would consider rather a personage? It was idle, indeed, for me to
      deny that my personality as well as my assumed origin and social position
      abroad had conferred a sort of prestige upon my sponsors; that on my
      account, in short, the North Side set had been newly armed in its battle
      with the Bohemian set. And they relied upon my continued influence. How,
      then, could I face them with the declaration that I meant to become a
      tradesman? Should I be doing a caddish thing, I wondered?
    </p>
    <p>
      Putting the difficulty to Cousin Egbert, he dismissed it impatiently by
      saying: &ldquo;Oh, shucks!&rdquo; In truth I do not believe he comprehended it in the
      least. But then it was that I fell upon my inspiration. I might take
      Colonel Marmaduke Ruggles from the North Side set, but I would give them
      another and bigger notable in his place. This should be none other than
      the Honourable George, whom I would now summon. A fortnight before I had
      received a rather snarky letter from him demanding to know how long I
      meant to remain in North America and disclosing that he was in a wretched
      state for want of some one to look after him. And he had even hinted that
      in the event of my continued absence he might himself come out to America
      and fetch me back. His quarter&rsquo;s allowance, would, I knew, be due in a
      fortnight, and my letter would reach him, therefore, before some
      adventurer had sold him a system for beating the French games of chance.
      And my letter would be compelling. I would make it a summons he could not
      resist. Thus, when I met the reproachful gaze of the C. Belknap-Jacksons
      and of Mrs. Effie, I should be able to tell them: &ldquo;I go from you, but I
      leave you a better man in my place.&rdquo; With the Honourable George Augustus
      Vane-Basingwell, next Earl of Brinstead, as their house guest, I made no
      doubt that the North Side set would at once prevail as it never had
      before, the Bohemian set losing at once such of its members as really
      mattered, who would of course be sensible of the tremendous social
      importance of the Honourable George.
    </p>
    <p>
      Yet there came moments in which I would again find myself in no end of a
      funk, foreseeing difficulties of an insurmountable character. At such
      times Cousin Egbert strove to cheer me with all sorts of assurances, and
      to divert my mind he took me upon excursions of the roughest sort into the
      surrounding jungle, in search either of fish or ground game. After three
      days of this my park-suit became almost a total ruin, particularly as to
      the trousers, so that I was glad to borrow a pair of overalls such as
      Cousin Egbert wore. They were a tidy fit, but, having resolved not to
      resist America any longer, I donned them without even removing the
      advertising placard.
    </p>
    <p>
      With my ever-lengthening stubble of beard it will be understood that I now
      appeared as one of their hearty Western Americans of the roughest type,
      which was almost quite a little odd, considering my former principles.
      Cousin Egbert, I need hardly say, was immensely pleased with my changed
      appearance, and remarked that I was &ldquo;sure a live wire.&rdquo; He also heartened
      me in the matter of the possible disapproval of C. Belknap-Jackson, which
      he had divined was the essential rabbit in my moodiness.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I admit the guy uses beautiful language,&rdquo; he conceded, &ldquo;and probably he&rsquo;s
      top-notched in education, but jest the same he ain&rsquo;t the whole seven
      pillars of the house of wisdom, not by a long shot. If he gets fancy with
      you, sock him again. You done it once.&rdquo; So far was the worthy fellow from
      divining the intimate niceties involved in my giving up a social career
      for trade. Nor could he properly estimate the importance of my plan to
      summon the Honourable George to Red Gap, merely remarking that the &ldquo;Judge&rdquo;
       was all right and a good mixer and that the boys would give him a swell
      time.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our return journey to Red Gap was made in company with the Indian Tuttle,
      and the two cow-persons, Hank and Buck, all of whom professed themselves
      glad to meet me again, and they, too, were wildly enthusiastic at hearing
      from Cousin Egbert of my proposed business venture. Needless to say they
      were of a class that would bother itself little with any question of
      social propriety involved in my entering trade, and they were loud in
      their promises of future patronage. At this I again felt some misgiving,
      for I meant the United States Grill to possess an atmosphere of quiet
      refinement calculated to appeal to particular people that really mattered;
      and yet it was plain that, keeping a public house, I must be prepared to
      entertain agricultural labourers and members of the lower or working
      classes. For a time I debated having an ordinary for such as these, where
      they could be shut away from my selecter patrons, but eventually decided
      upon a tariff that would be prohibitive to all but desirable people. The
      rougher or Bohemian element, being required to spring an extra shilling,
      would doubtless seek other places.
    </p>
    <p>
      For two days we again filed through mountain gorges of a most awkward
      character, reaching Red Gap at dusk. For this I was rather grateful, not
      only because of my beard and the overalls, but on account of a hat of the
      most shocking description which Cousin Egbert had pressed upon me when my
      own deer-stalker was lost in a glen. I was willing to roughen it in all
      good-fellowship with these worthy Americans, but I knew that to those who
      had remarked my careful taste in dress my present appearance would seem
      almost a little singular. I would rather I did not shock them to this
      extent.
    </p>
    <p>
      Yet when our animals had been left in their corral, or rude enclosure, I
      found it would be ungracious to decline the hospitality of my new friends
      who wished to drink to the success of the U.S. Grill, and so I accompanied
      them to several public houses, though with the shocking hat pulled well
      down over my face. Also, as the dinner hour passed, I consented to dine
      with them at the establishment of a Chinese, where we sat on high stools
      at a counter and were served ham and eggs and some of the simpler American
      foods.
    </p>
    <p>
      The meal being over, I knew that we ought to cut off home directly, but
      Cousin Egbert again insisted upon visiting drinking-places, and I had no
      mind to leave him, particularly as he was growing more and more bitter in
      my behalf against Mr. Belknap-Jackson. I had a doubtless absurd fear that
      he would seek the gentleman out and do him a mischief, though for the
      moment he was merely urging me to do this. It would, he asserted, vastly
      entertain the Indian Tuttle and the cow-persons if I were to come upon Mr.
      Belknap-Jackson and savage him without warning, or at least with only a
      paltry excuse, which he seemed proud of having devised.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You go up to the guy,&rdquo; he insisted, &ldquo;very polite, you understand, and ask
      him what day this is. If he says it&rsquo;s Tuesday, sock him.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But it is Tuesday,&rdquo; I said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Sure,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s where the joke comes in.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Of course this was the crudest sort of American humour and not to be given
      a moment&rsquo;s serious thought, so I redoubled my efforts to detach him from
      our honest but noisy friends, and presently had the satisfaction of doing
      so by pleading that I must be up early on the morrow and would also
      require his assistance. At parting, to my embarrassment, he insisted on
      leading the group in a cheer. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter with Ruggles?&rdquo; they
      loudly demanded in unison, following the query swiftly with: &ldquo;He&rsquo;s all
      right!&rdquo; the &ldquo;he&rdquo; being eloquently emphasized.
    </p>
    <p>
      But at last we were away from them and off into the darker avenue, to my
      great relief, remembering my garb. I might be a living wire, as Cousin
      Egbert had said, but I was keenly aware that his overalls and hat would
      rather convey the impression that I was what they call in the States a bad
      person from a bitter creek.
    </p>
    <p>
      To my further relief, the Floud house was quite dark as we approached and
      let ourselves in. Cousin Egbert, however, would enter the drawing-room,
      flood it with light, and seat himself in an easy-chair with his feet
      lifted to a sofa. He then raised his voice in a ballad of an infant that
      had perished, rendering it most tearfully, the refrain being, &ldquo;Empty is
      the cradle, baby&rsquo;s gone!&rdquo; Apprehensive at this, I stole softly up the
      stairs and had but reached the door of my own room when I heard Mrs. Effie
      below. I could fancy the chilling gaze which she fastened upon the singer,
      and I heard her coldly demand, &ldquo;Where are your feet?&rdquo; Whereupon the
      plaintive voice of Cousin Egbert arose to me, &ldquo;Just below my legs.&rdquo; I mean
      to say, he had taken the thing as a quiz in anatomy rather than as the
      rebuke it was meant to be. As I closed my door, I heard him add that he
      could be pushed just so far.
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    </h2>
    <p>
      Having written and posted my letter to the Honourable George the following
      morning, I summoned Mr. Belknap-Jackson, conceiving it my first duty to
      notify him and Mrs. Effie of my trade intentions. I also requested Cousin
      Egbert to be present, since he was my business sponsor.
    </p>
    <p>
      All being gathered at the Floud house, including Mrs. Belknap-Jackson, I
      told them straight that I had resolved to abandon my social career,
      brilliant though it had been, and to enter trade quite as one of their
      middle-class Americans. They all gasped a bit at my first words, as I had
      quite expected them to do, but what was my surprise, when I went on to
      announce the nature of my enterprise, to find them not a little intrigued
      by it, and to discover that in their view I should not in the least be
      lowering myself.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Capital, capital!&rdquo; exclaimed Belknap-Jackson, and the ladies emitted
      little exclamations of similar import.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;At last,&rdquo; said Mrs. Belknap-Jackson, &ldquo;we shall have a place with tone to
      it. The hall above will be splendid for our dinner dances, and now we can
      have smart luncheons and afternoon teas.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And a red-coated orchestra and after-theatre suppers,&rdquo; said Mrs. Effie.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Only,&rdquo; put in Belknap-Jackson thoughtfully, &ldquo;he will of course be
      compelled to use discretion about his patrons. The rabble, of course&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
       He broke off with a wave of his hand which, although not pointedly, seemed
      to indicate Cousin Egbert, who once more wore the hunted look about his
      eyes and who sat by uneasily. I saw him wince.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Some people&rsquo;s money is just as good as other people&rsquo;s if you come right
      down to it,&rdquo; he muttered, &ldquo;and Bill is out for the coin. Besides, we all
      got to eat, ain&rsquo;t we?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Belknap-Jackson smiled deprecatingly and again waved his hand as if there
      were no need for words.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;That rowdy Bohemian set&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; began Mrs. Effie, but I made bold
      to interrupt. There might, I said, be awkward moments, but I had no doubt
      that I should be able to meet them with a flawless tact. Meantime, for the
      ultimate confusion of the Bohemian set of Red Gap, I had to announce that
      the Honourable George Augustus Vane-Basingwell would presently be with us.
      With him as a member of the North Side set, I pointed out, it was not
      possible to believe that any desirable members of the Bohemian set would
      longer refuse to affiliate with the smartest people.
    </p>
    <p>
      My announcement made quite all the sensation I had anticipated.
      Belknap-Jackson, indeed, arose quickly and grasped me by the hand,
      echoing, &ldquo;The Honourable George Augustus Vane-Basingwell, brother of the
      Earl of Brinstead,&rdquo; with little shivers of ecstasy in his voice, while the
      ladies pealed their excitement incoherently, with &ldquo;Really! really!&rdquo; and
      &ldquo;Actually coming to Red Gap&mdash;the brother of a lord!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Then almost at once I detected curiously cold glances being darted at each
      other by the ladies.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Of course we will be only too glad to put him up,&rdquo; said Mrs.
      Belknap-Jackson quickly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But, my dear, he will of course come to us first,&rdquo; put in Mrs. Effie.
      &ldquo;Afterward, to be sure&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s so important that he should receive a favourable impression,&rdquo;
       responded Mrs. Belknap-Jackson.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s exactly why&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; Mrs. Effie came back with not a little
      obvious warmth. Belknap-Jackson here caught my eye.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I dare say Ruggles and I can be depended upon to decide a minor matter
      like that,&rdquo; he said.
    </p>
    <p>
      The ladies both broke in at this, rather sputteringly, but Cousin Egbert
      silenced them.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Shake dice for him,&rdquo; he said&mdash;&ldquo;poker dice, three throws, aces low.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;How shockingly vulgar!&rdquo; hissed Mrs. Belknap-Jackson.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Even if there were no other reason for his coming to us,&rdquo; remarked her
      husband coldly, &ldquo;there are certain unfortunate associations which ought to
      make his entertainment here quite impossible.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;If you&rsquo;re calling me &lsquo;unfortunate associations,&rsquo;&rdquo; remarked Cousin Egbert,
      &ldquo;you want to get it out of your head right off. I don&rsquo;t mind telling you,
      the Judge and I get along fine together. I told him when I was in Paris
      and Europe to look me up the first thing if ever he come here, and he said
      he sure would. The Judge is some mixer, believe me!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The &lsquo;Judge&rsquo;!&rdquo; echoed the Belknap-Jacksons in deep disgust.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You come right down to it&mdash;I bet a cookie he stays just where I tell
      him to stay,&rdquo; insisted Cousin Egbert. The evident conviction of his tone
      alarmed his hearers, who regarded each other with pained speculation.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Right where I tell him to stay and no place else,&rdquo; insisted Cousin
      Egbert, sensing the impression he had made.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But this is too monstrous!&rdquo; said Mr. Jackson, regarding me imploringly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The Honourable George,&rdquo; I admitted, &ldquo;has been known to do unexpected
      things, and there have been times when he was not as sensitive as I could
      wish to the demands of his caste&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Bill is stalling&mdash;he knows darned well the Judge is a mixer,&rdquo; broke
      in Cousin Egbert, somewhat to my embarrassment, nor did any reply occur to
      me. There was a moment&rsquo;s awkward silence during which I became sensitive
      to a radical change in the attitude which these people bore to Cousin
      Egbert. They shot him looks of furtive but unmistakable respect, and Mrs.
      Effie remarked almost with tenderness: &ldquo;We must admit that Cousin Egbert
      has a certain way with him.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I dare say Floud and I can adjust the matter satisfactorily to all,&rdquo;
       remarked Belknap-Jackson, and with a jaunty affection of good-fellowship,
      he opened his cigarette case to Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I ain&rsquo;t made up my mind yet where I&rsquo;ll have him stay,&rdquo; announced the
      latter, too evidently feeling his newly acquired importance. &ldquo;I may have
      him stay one place, then again I may have him stay another. I can&rsquo;t decide
      things like that off-hand.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      And here the matter was preposterously left, the aspirants for this social
      honour patiently bending their knees to the erstwhile despised Cousin
      Egbert, and the latter being visibly puffed up. By rather awkward stages
      they came again to a discussion of the United States Grill.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The name, of course, might be thought flamboyant,&rdquo; suggested
      Belknap-Jackson delicately.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But I have determined,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;no longer to resist America, and so I
      can think of no name more fitting.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Your determination,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;bears rather sinister implications.
      One may be vanquished by America as I have been. One may even submit; but
      surely one may always resist a little, may not one? One need not abjectly
      surrender one&rsquo;s finest convictions, need one?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Oh, shucks,&rdquo; put in Cousin Egbert petulantly, &ldquo;what&rsquo;s the use of all that
      &lsquo;one&rsquo; stuff? Bill wants a good American name for his place. Me? I first
      thought the &lsquo;Bon Ton Eating House&rsquo; would be kind of a nice name for it,
      but as soon as he said the &lsquo;United States Grill&rsquo; I knew it was a better
      one. It sounds kind of grand and important.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Belknap-Jackson here made deprecating clucks, but not too directly toward
      Cousin Egbert, and my choice of a name was not further criticised. I went
      on to assure them that I should have an establishment quietly smart rather
      than noisily elegant, and that I made no doubt the place would give a new
      tone to Red Gap, whereat they all expressed themselves as immensely
      pleased, and our little conference came to an end.
    </p>
    <p>
      In company with Cousin Egbert I now went to examine the premises I was to
      take over. There was a spacious corner room, lighted from the front and
      side, which would adapt itself well to the decorative scheme I had in
      mind. The kitchen with its ranges I found would be almost quite suitable
      for my purpose, requiring but little alteration, but the large room was of
      course atrociously impossible in the American fashion, with unsightly
      walls, the floors covered with American cloth of a garish pattern, and the
      small, oblong tables and flimsy chairs vastly uninviting.
    </p>
    <p>
      As to the gross ideals of the former tenant, I need only say that he had
      made, as I now learned, a window display of foods, quite after the manner
      of a draper&rsquo;s window: moulds of custard set in a row, flanked on either
      side by &ldquo;pies,&rdquo; as the natives call their tarts, with perhaps a roast fowl
      or ham in the centre. Artistic vulgarity could of course go little beyond
      this, but almost as offensive were the abundant wall-placards pathetically
      remaining in place.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Coffee like mother used to make,&rdquo; read one. Impertinently intimate this,
      professing a familiarity with one&rsquo;s people that would never do with us.
      &ldquo;Try our Boston Baked Beans,&rdquo; pleaded another, quite abjectly. And several
      others quite indelicately stated the prices at which different dishes
      might be had: &ldquo;Irish Stew, 25 cents&rdquo;; &ldquo;Philadelphia Capon, 35 cents&rdquo;;
      &ldquo;Fried Chicken, Maryland, 50 cents&rdquo;; &ldquo;New York Fancy Broil, 40 cents.&rdquo;
       Indeed the poor chap seemed to have been possessed by a geographical
      mania, finding it difficult to submit the simplest viands without
      crediting them to distant towns or provinces.
    </p>
    <p>
      Upon Cousin Egbert&rsquo;s remarking that these bedizened placards would &ldquo;come
      in handy,&rdquo; I took pains to explain to him just how different the United
      States Grill would be. The walls would be done in deep red; the floor
      would be covered with a heavy Turkey carpet of the same tone; the present
      crude electric lighting fixtures must be replaced with indirect lighting
      from the ceiling and electric candlesticks for the tables. The latter
      would be massive and of stained oak, my general colour-scheme being red
      and brown. The chairs would be of the same style, comfortable chairs in
      which patrons would be tempted to linger. The windows would be heavily
      draped. In a word, the place would have atmosphere; not the loud and
      blaring, elegance which I had observed in the smartest of New York
      establishments, with shrieking decorations and tables jammed together, but
      an atmosphere of distinction which, though subtle, would yet impress
      shop-assistants, plate-layers and road-menders, hodmen, carters,
      cattle-persons&mdash;in short the middle-class native.
    </p>
    <p>
      Cousin Egbert, I fear, was not properly impressed with my plan, for he
      looked longingly at the wall-placards, yet he made the most loyal pretence
      to this effect, even when I explained further that I should probably have
      no printed menu, which I have always regarded as the ultimate vulgarity in
      a place where there are any proper relations between patrons and steward.
      He made one wistful, timid reference to the &ldquo;Try Our Merchant&rsquo;s Lunch for
      35 cents,&rdquo; after which he gave in entirely, particularly when I explained
      that ham and eggs in the best manner would be forthcoming at his order,
      even though no placard vaunted them or named their price. Advertising
      one&rsquo;s ability to serve ham and eggs, I pointed out to him, would be quite
      like advertising that one was a member of the Church of England.
    </p>
    <p>
      After this he meekly enough accompanied me to his bank, where he placed a
      thousand pounds to my credit, adding that I could go as much farther as I
      liked, whereupon I set in motion the machinery for decorating and
      furnishing the place, with particular attention to silver, linen, china,
      and glassware, all of which, I was resolved, should have an air of its
      own.
    </p>
    <p>
      Nor did I neglect to seek out the pair of blacks and enter into an
      agreement with them to assist in staffing my place. I had feared that the
      male black might have resolved to return to his adventurous life of
      outlawry after leaving the employment of Belknap-Jackson, but I found him
      peacefully inclined and entirely willing to accept service with me, while
      his wife, upon whom I would depend for much of the actual cooking, was
      wholly enthusiastic, admiring especially my colour-scheme of reds. I
      observed at once that her almost exclusive notion of preparing food was to
      fry it, but I made no doubt that I would be able to broaden her scope,
      since there are of course things that one simply does not fry.
    </p>
    <p>
      The male black, or raccoon, at first alarmed me not a little by reason of
      threats he made against Belknap-Jackson on account of having been shopped.
      He nursed an intention, so he informed me, of putting snake-dust in the
      boots of his late employer and so bringing evil upon him, either by
      disease or violence, but in this I discouraged him smartly, apprising him
      that the Belknap-Jacksons would doubtless be among our most desirable
      patrons, whereupon his wife promised for him that he would do nothing of
      the sort. She was a native of formidable bulk, and her menacing glare at
      her consort as she made this promise gave me instant confidence in her
      power to control him, desperate fellow though he was.
    </p>
    <p>
      Later in the day, at the door of the silversmith&rsquo;s, Cousin Egbert hailed
      the pressman I had met on the evening of my arrival, and insisted that I
      impart to him the details of my venture. The chap seemed vastly
      interested, and his sheet the following morning published the following:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
    THE DELMONICO OF THE WEST

    Colonel Marmaduke Ruggles of London and Paris, for the past
    two months a social favourite in Red Gap&rsquo;s select North Side
    set, has decided to cast his lot among us and will henceforth
    be reckoned as one of our leading business men. The plan of
    the Colonel is nothing less than to give Red Gap a truly élite
    and recherché restaurant after the best models of London and
    Paris, to which purpose he will devote a considerable portion
    of his ample means. The establishment will occupy the roomy
    corner store of the Pettengill block, and orders have already
    been placed for its decoration and furnishing, which will be
    sumptuous beyond anything yet seen in our thriving metropolis.

    In speaking of his enterprise yesterday, the Colonel remarked,
    with a sly twinkle in his eye, &ldquo;Demosthenes was the son of a
    cutler, Cromwell&rsquo;s father was a brewer, your General Grant was
    a tanner, and a Mr. Garfield, who held, I gather, an important
    post in your government, was once employed on a canal-ship, so
    I trust that in this land of equality it will not be presumptuous
    on my part to seek to become the managing owner of a restaurant
    that will be a credit to the fastest growing town in the state.

    &ldquo;You Americans have,&rdquo; continued the Colonel in his dry, inimitable
    manner, &ldquo;a bewildering variety of foodstuffs, but I trust I may
    be forgiven for saying that you have used too little constructive
    imagination in the cooking of it. In the one matter of tea,
    for example, I have been obliged to figure in some episodes
    that were profoundly regrettable. Again, amid the profusion of
    fresh vegetables and meats, you are becoming a nation of tinned
    food eaters, or canned food as you prefer to call it. This,
    I need hardly say, adds to your cost of living and also makes
    you liable to one of the most dreaded of modern diseases, a
    disease whose rise can be traced to the rise of the tinned-food
    industry. Your tin openers rasp into the tin with the result
    that a fine sawdust of metal must drop into the contents and
    so enter the human system. The result is perhaps negligible in
    a large majority of cases, but that it is not universally so
    is proved by the prevalence of appendicitis. Not orange or
    grape pips, as was so long believed, but the deadly fine rain
    of metal shavings must be held responsible for this scourge.
    I need hardly say that at the United States Grill no tinned
    food will be used.&rdquo;
 
    This latest discovery of the Colonel&rsquo;s is important if true.
    Be that as it may, his restaurant will fill a long-felt want,
    and will doubtless prove to be an important factor in the social
    gayeties of our smart set. Due notice of its opening will be
    given in the news and doubtless in the advertising columns of
    this journal.
</pre>
    <p>
      Again I was brought to marvel at a peculiarity of the American press, a
      certain childish eagerness for marvels and grotesque wonders. I had given
      but passing thought to my remarks about appendicitis and its relation to
      the American tinned-food habit, nor, on reading the chap&rsquo;s screed, did
      they impress me as being fraught with vital interest to thinking people;
      in truth, I was more concerned with the comparison of myself to a
      restaurateur of the crude new city of New York, which might belittle
      rather than distinguish me, I suspected. But what was my astonishment to
      perceive in the course of a few days that I had created rather a
      sensation, with attending newspaper publicity which, although bizarre
      enough, I am bound to say contributed not a little to the consideration in
      which I afterward came to be held by the more serious-minded persons of
      Red Gap.
    </p>
    <p>
      Busied with the multitude of details attending my installation, I was
      called upon by another press chap, representing a Spokane sheet, who
      wished me to elaborate my views concerning the most probable cause of
      appendicitis, which I found myself able to do with some eloquence,
      reciting among other details that even though the metal dust might be of
      an almost microscopic fineness, it could still do a mischief to one&rsquo;s
      appendix. The press chap appeared wholly receptive to my views, and, after
      securing details of my plan to smarten Red Gap with a restaurant of real
      distinction, he asked so civilly for a photographic portrait of myself
      that I was unable to refuse him. The thing was a snap taken of me one
      morning at Chaynes-Wotten by Higgins, the butler, as I stood by his
      lordship&rsquo;s saddle mare. It was not by any means the best likeness I have
      had, but there was a rather effective bit of background disclosing the
      driveway and the façade of the East Wing.
    </p>
    <p>
      This episode I had well-nigh forgotten when on the following Sunday I
      found the thing emblazoned across a page of the Spokane sheet under a
      shrieking headline: &ldquo;Can Opener Blamed for Appendicitis.&rdquo; A secondary
      heading ran, &ldquo;Famous British Sportsman and Bon Vivant Advances Novel
      Theory.&rdquo; Accompanying this was a print of the photograph entitled,
      &ldquo;Colonel Marmaduke Ruggles with His Favourite Hunter, at His English
      Country Seat.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Although the article made suitable reference to myself and my enterprise,
      it was devoted chiefly to a discussion of my tin-opening theory and was
      supplemented by a rather snarky statement signed by a physician declaring
      it to be nonsense. I thought the fellow might have chosen his words with
      more care, but again dismissed the matter from my mind. Yet this was not
      to be the last of it. In due time came a New York sheet with a most
      extraordinary page. &ldquo;Titled Englishman Learns Cause of Appendicitis,&rdquo; read
      the heading in large, muddy type. Below was the photograph of myself, now
      entitled, &ldquo;Sir Marmaduke Ruggles and His Favourite Hunter.&rdquo; But this was
      only one of the illustrations. From the upper right-hand corner a gigantic
      hand wielding a tin-opener rained a voluminous spray of metal, presumably,
      upon a cowering wretch in the lower left-hand corner, who was quite
      plainly all in. There were tables of statistics showing the increase, side
      by side of appendicitis and the tinned-food industry, a matter to which I
      had devoted, said the print, years of research before announcing my
      discovery. Followed statements from half a dozen distinguished surgeons,
      each signed autographically, all but one rather bluntly disagreeing with
      me, insisting that the tin-opener cuts cleanly and, if not man&rsquo;s best
      friend, should at least be considered one of the triumphs of civilization.
      The only exception announced that he was at present conducting laboratory
      experiments with a view to testing my theory and would disclose his
      results in due time. Meantime, he counselled the public to be not unduly
      alarmed.
    </p>
    <p>
      Of the further flood of these screeds, which continued for the better part
      of a year, I need not speak. They ran the gamut from serious leaders in
      medical journals to paid ridicule of my theory in advertisements printed
      by the food-tinning persons, and I have to admit that in the end the
      public returned to a full confidence in its tinned foods. But that is
      beside the point, which was that Red Gap had become intensely interested
      in the United States Grill, and to this I was not averse, though I would
      rather I had been regarded as one of their plain, common sort, instead of
      the fictitious Colonel which Cousin Egbert&rsquo;s well-meaning stupidity had
      foisted upon the town. The &ldquo;Sir Marmaduke Ruggles and His Favourite
      Hunter&rdquo; had been especially repugnant to my finer taste, particularly as
      it was seized upon by the cheap one-and-six fellow Hobbs for some of his
      coarsest humour, he more than once referring to that detestable cur of
      Mrs. Judson&rsquo;s, who had quickly resumed his allegiance to me, as my
      &ldquo;hunting pack.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The other tradesmen of the town, I am bound to say, exhibited a friendly
      interest in my venture which was always welcome and often helpful. Even
      one of my competitors showed himself to be a dead sport by coming to me
      from time to time with hints and advice. He was an entirely worthy person
      who advertised his restaurant as &ldquo;Bert&rsquo;s Place.&rdquo; &ldquo;Go to Bert&rsquo;s Place for a
      Square Meal,&rdquo; was his favoured line in the public prints. He, also, I
      regret to say, made a practice of displaying cooked foods in his
      show-window, the window carrying the line in enamelled letters, &ldquo;Tables
      Reserved for Ladies.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Of course between such an establishment and my own there could be little
      in common, and I was obliged to reject a placard which he offered me,
      reading, &ldquo;No Checks Cashed. This Means You!&rdquo; although he and Cousin Egbert
      warmly advised that I display it in a conspicuous place. &ldquo;Some of them
      dead beats in the North Side set will put you sideways if you don&rsquo;t,&rdquo;
       warned the latter, but I held firmly to the line of quiet refinement which
      I had laid down, and explained that I could allow no such inconsiderate
      mention of money to be obtruded upon the notice of my guests. I would
      devise some subtler protection against the dead beet-roots.
    </p>
    <p>
      In the matter of music, however, I was pleased to accept the advice of
      Cousin Egbert. &ldquo;Get one of them musical pianos that you put a nickel in,&rdquo;
       he counselled me, and this I did, together with an assorted repertoire of
      selections both classical and popular, the latter consisting chiefly of
      the ragging time songs to which the native Americans perform their
      folkdances.
    </p>
    <p>
      And now, as the date of my opening drew near, I began to suspect that its
      social values might become a bit complicated. Mrs. Belknap-Jackson, for
      example, approached me in confidence to know if she might reserve all the
      tables in my establishment for the opening evening, remarking that it
      would be as well to put the correct social cachet upon the place at once,
      which would be achieved by her inviting only the desirable people. Though
      she was all for settling the matter at once, something prompted me to take
      it under consideration.
    </p>
    <p>
      The same evening Mrs. Effie approached me with a similar suggestion,
      remarking that she would gladly take it upon herself to see that the
      occasion was unmarred by the presence of those one would not care to meet
      in one&rsquo;s own home. Again I was non-committal, somewhat to her annoyance.
    </p>
    <p>
      The following morning I was sought by Mrs. Judge Ballard with the
      information that much would depend upon my opening, and if the matter were
      left entirely in her hands she would be more than glad to insure its
      success. Of her, also, I begged a day&rsquo;s consideration, suspecting then
      that I might be compelled to ask these three social leaders to unite
      amicably as patronesses of an affair that was bound to have a supreme
      social significance. But as I still meditated profoundly over the
      complication late that afternoon, overlooking in the meanwhile an
      electrician who was busy with my shaded candlesticks, I was surprised by
      the self-possessed entrance of the leader of the Bohemian set, the
      Klondike person of whom I have spoken. Again I was compelled to observe
      that she was quite the most smartly gowned woman in Red Gap, and that she
      marvellously knew what to put on her head.
    </p>
    <p>
      She coolly surveyed my decorations and such of the furnishings as were in
      place before addressing me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I wish to engage one of your best tables,&rdquo; she began, &ldquo;for your opening
      night&mdash;the tenth, isn&rsquo;t it?&mdash;this large one in the corner will
      do nicely. There will be eight of us. Your place really won&rsquo;t be half bad,
      if your food is at all possible.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The creature spoke with a sublime effrontery, quite as if she had not
      helped a few weeks before to ridicule all that was best in Red Gap
      society, yet there was that about her which prevented me from rebuking her
      even by the faintest shade in my manner. More than this, I suddenly saw
      that the Bohemian set would be a factor in my trade which I could not
      afford to ignore. While I affected to consider her request she tapped the
      toe of a small boot with a correctly rolled umbrella, lifting her chin
      rather attractively meanwhile to survey my freshly done ceiling. I may say
      here that the effect of her was most compelling, and I could well
      understand the bitterness with which the ladies of the Onwards and Upwards
      Society had gossiped her to rags. Incidently, this was the first correctly
      rolled umbrella, saving my own, that I had seen in North America.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I shall be pleased,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;to reserve this table for you&mdash;eight
      places, I believe you said?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      She left me as a duchess might have. She was that sort. I felt almost
      quite unequal to her. And the die was cast. I faced each of the three
      ladies who had previously approached me with the declaration that I was a
      licensed victualler, bound to serve all who might apply. That while I was
      keenly sensitive to the social aspects of my business, it was yet a
      business, and I must, therefore, be in supreme control. In justice to
      myself I could not exclusively entertain any faction of the North Side
      set, nor even the set in its entirety. In each instance, I added that I
      could not debar from my tables even such members of the Bohemian set as
      conducted themselves in a seemly manner. It was a difficult situation,
      calling out all my tact, yet I faced it with a firmness which was later to
      react to my advantage in ways I did not yet dream of.
    </p>
    <p>
      So engrossed for a month had I been with furnishers, decorators, char
      persons, and others that the time of the Honourable George&rsquo;s arrival drew
      on quite before I realized it. A brief and still snarky note had apprised
      me of his intention to come out to North America, whereupon I had all but
      forgotten him, until a telegram from Chicago or one of those places had
      warned me of his imminence. This I displayed to Cousin Egbert, who, much
      pleased with himself, declared that the Honourable George should be taken
      to the Floud home directly upon his arrival.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I meant to rope him in there on the start,&rdquo; he confided to me, &ldquo;but I let
      on I wasn&rsquo;t decided yet, just to keep &lsquo;em stirred up. Mrs. Effie she
      butters me up with soft words every day of my life, and that Jackson lad
      has offered me about ten thousand of them vegetable cigarettes, but I&rsquo;ll
      have to throw him down. He&rsquo;s the human flivver. Put him in a car of
      dressed beef and he&rsquo;d freeze it between here and Spokane. Yes, sir; you
      could cut his ear off and it wouldn&rsquo;t bleed. I ain&rsquo;t going to run the
      Judge against no such proposition like that.&rdquo; Of course the poor chap was
      speaking his own backwoods metaphor, as I am quite sure he would have been
      incapable of mutilating Belknap-Jackson, or even of imprisoning him in a
      goods van of beef. I mean to say, it was merely his way of speaking and
      was not to be taken at all literally.
    </p>
    <p>
      As a result of his ensuing call upon the pressman, the sheet of the
      following morning contained word of the Honourable George&rsquo;s coming, the
      facts being not garbled more than was usual with this chap.
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
    RED GAP&rsquo;S NOTABLE GUEST

    En route for our thriving metropolis is a personage no
    less distinguished than the Honourable George Augustus
    Vane-Basingwell, only brother and next in line of
    succession to his lordship the Earl of Brinstead, the
    well-known British peer of London, England. Our noble
    visitor will be the house guest of Senator and Mrs.
    J. K. Floud, at their palatial residence on Ophir Avenue,
    where he will be extensively entertained, particularly by
    our esteemed fellow-townsman, Egbert G. Floud, with whom
    he recently hobnobbed during the latter&rsquo;s stay in Paris,
    France. His advent will doubtless prelude a season of
    unparalleled gayety, particularly as Mr. Egbert Floud
    assures us that the &ldquo;Judge,&rdquo; as he affectionately calls
    him, is &ldquo;sure some mixer.&rdquo; If this be true, the gentleman
    has selected a community where his talent will find ample
    scope, and we bespeak for his lordship a hearty welcome.
</pre>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER FOURTEEN
    </h2>
    <p>
      I must do Cousin Egbert the justice to say that he showed a due sense of
      his responsibility in meeting the Honourable George. By general consent
      the honour had seemed to fall to him, both the Belknap-Jacksons and Mrs.
      Effie rather timidly conceding his claim that the distinguished guest
      would prefer it so. Indeed, Cousin Egbert had been loudly arrogant in the
      matter, speaking largely of his European intimacy with the &ldquo;Judge&rdquo; until,
      as he confided to me, he &ldquo;had them all bisoned,&rdquo; or, I believe,
      &ldquo;buffaloed&rdquo; is the term he used, referring to the big-game animal that has
      been swept from the American savannahs.
    </p>
    <p>
      At all events no one further questioned his right to be at the station
      when the Honourable George arrived, and for the first time almost since
      his own homecoming he got himself up with some attention to detail. If
      left to himself I dare say he would have donned frock-coat and top-hat,
      but at my suggestion he chose his smartest lounge-suit, and I took pains
      to see that the minor details of hat, boots, hose, gloves, etc., were
      studiously correct without being at all assertive.
    </p>
    <p>
      For my own part, I was also at some pains with my attire going consciously
      a bit further with details than Cousin Egbert, thinking it best the
      Honourable George should at once observe a change in my bearing and social
      consequence so that nothing in his manner toward me might embarrassingly
      publish our former relations. The stick, gloves, and monocle would achieve
      this for the moment, and once alone I meant to tell him straight that all
      was over between us as master and man, we having passed out of each
      other&rsquo;s lives in that respect. If necessary, I meant to read to him
      certain passages from the so-called &ldquo;Declaration of Independence,&rdquo; and to
      show him the fateful little card I had found, which would acquaint him, I
      made no doubt, with the great change that had come upon me, after which
      our intimacy would rest solely upon the mutual esteem which I knew to
      exist between us. I mean to say, it would never have done for one moment
      at home, but finding ourselves together in this wild and lawless country
      we would neither of us try to resist America, but face each other as one
      equal native to another.
    </p>
    <p>
      Waiting on the station platform with Cousin Egbert, he confided to the
      loungers there that he was come to meet his friend Judge Basingwell,
      whereat all betrayed a friendly interest, though they were not at all
      persons that mattered, being of the semi-leisured class who each day went
      down, as they put it, &ldquo;to see Number Six go through.&rdquo; There was thus a
      rather tense air of expectancy when the train pulled in. From one of the
      Pullman night coaches emerged the Honourable George, preceded by a
      blackamoor or raccoon bearing bags and bundles, and followed by another
      uniformed raccoon and a white guard, also bearing bags and bundles, and
      all betraying a marked anxiety.
    </p>
    <p>
      One glance at the Honourable George served to confirm certain fears I had
      suffered regarding his appearance. Topped by a deer-stalking fore-and-aft
      cap in an inferior state of preservation, he wore the jacket of a
      lounge-suit, once possible, doubtless, but now demoded, and a blazered
      golfing waistcoat, striking for its poisonous greens, trousers from an
      outing suit that I myself had discarded after it came to me, and boots of
      an entirely shocking character. Of his cravat I have not the heart to
      speak, but I may mention that all his garments were quite horrid with
      wrinkles and seemed to have been slept in repeatedly.
    </p>
    <p>
      Cousin Egbert at once rushed forward to greet his guest, while I busied
      myself in receiving the hand-luggage, wishing to have our guest effaced
      from the scene and secluded, with all possible speed. There were three
      battered handbags, two rolls of travelling rugs, a stick-case, a
      dispatch-case, a pair of binoculars, a hat-box, a top-coat, a storm-coat,
      a portfolio of correspondence materials, a camera, a medicine-case, some
      of these lacking either strap or handle. The attendants all emitted hearty
      sighs of relief when these articles had been deposited upon the platform.
      Without being told, I divined that the Honourable George had greatly
      worried them during the long journey with his fretful demands for service,
      and I tipped them handsomely while he was still engaged with Cousin Egbert
      and the latter&rsquo;s station-lounging friends to whom he was being presented.
      At last, observing me, he came forward, but halted on surveying the
      luggage, and screamed hoarsely to the last attendant who was now boarding
      the train. The latter vanished, but reappeared, as the train moved off,
      with two more articles, a vacuum night-flask and a tin of charcoal
      biscuits, the absence of which had been swiftly detected by their owner.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was at that moment that one of the loungers nearby made a peculiar
      observation. &ldquo;Gee!&rdquo; said he to a native beside him, &ldquo;it must take an awful
      lot of trouble to be an Englishman.&rdquo; At the moment this seemed to me to be
      pregnant with meaning, though doubtless it was because I had so long been
      a resident of the North American wilds.
    </p>
    <p>
      Again the Honourable George approached me and grasped my hand before
      certain details of my attire and, I fancy, a certain change in my bearing,
      attracted his notice. Perhaps it was the single glass. His grasp of my
      hand relaxed and he rubbed his eyes as if dazed from a blow, but I was
      able to carry the situation off quite nicely under cover of the confusion
      attending his many bags and bundles, being helped also at the moment by
      the deeply humiliating discovery of a certain omission from his attire. I
      could not at first believe my eyes and was obliged to look again and
      again, but there could be no doubt about it: the Honourable George was
      wearing a single spat!
    </p>
    <p>
      I cried out at this, pointing, I fancy, in a most undignified manner, so
      terrific had been the shock of it, and what was my amazement to hear him
      say: &ldquo;But I <i>had</i> only one, you silly! How could I wear &lsquo;em both when
      the other was lost in that bally rabbit-hutch they put me in on shipboard?
      No bigger than a parcels-lift!&rdquo; And he had too plainly crossed North
      America in this shocking state! Glad I was then that Belknap-Jackson was
      not present. The others, I dare say, considered it a mere freak of
      fashion. As quickly as I could, I hustled him into the waiting carriage,
      piling his luggage about him to the best advantage and hurrying Cousin
      Egbert after him as rapidly as I could, though the latter, as on the
      occasion of my own arrival, halted our departure long enough to present
      the Honourable George to the driver.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Judge, shake hands with my friend Eddie Pierce.&rdquo; adding as the ceremony
      was performed, &ldquo;Eddie keeps a good team, any time you want a hack-ride.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Sure, Judge,&rdquo; remarked the driver cordially. &ldquo;Just call up Main 224, any
      time. Any friend of Sour-dough&rsquo;s can have anything they want night or
      day.&rdquo; Whereupon he climbed to his box and we at last drove away.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Honourable George had continued from the moment of our meeting to
      glance at me in a peculiar, side-long fashion. He seemed fascinated and
      yet unequal to a straight look at me. He was undoubtedly dazed, as I could
      discern from his absent manner of opening the tin of charcoal biscuits and
      munching one. I mean to say, it was too obviously a mere mechanical
      impulse.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I say,&rdquo; he remarked to Cousin Egbert, who was beaming fondly at him, &ldquo;how
      strange it all is! It&rsquo;s quite foreign.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The fastest-growing little town in the State,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But what makes it grow so silly fast?&rdquo; demanded the other.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Enterprise and industries,&rdquo; answered Cousin Egbert loftily.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Nothing to make a dust about,&rdquo; remarked the Honourable George, staring
      glassily at the main business thoroughfare. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve seen larger towns&mdash;scores
      of them.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You ain&rsquo;t begun to see this town yet,&rdquo; responded Cousin Egbert loyally,
      and he called to the driver, &ldquo;Has he, Eddie?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Sure, he ain&rsquo;t!&rdquo; said the driver person genially. &ldquo;Wait till he sees the
      new waterworks and the sash-and-blind factory!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Is he one of your gentleman drivers?&rdquo; demanded the Honourable George.
      &ldquo;And why a blind factory?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Oh, Eddie&rsquo;s good people all right,&rdquo; answered the other, &ldquo;and the factory
      turns out blinds and things.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Why turn them out?&rdquo; he left this and continued: &ldquo;He&rsquo;s like that American
      Johnny in London that drives his own coach to Brighton, yes? Ripping idea!
      Gentleman driver. But I say, you know, I&rsquo;ll sit on the box with him. Pull
      up a bit, old son!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      To my consternation the driver chap halted, and before I could remonstrate
      the Honourable George had mounted to the box beside him. Thankful I was we
      had left the main street, though in the residence avenue where the change
      was made we attracted far more attention than was desirable. &ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t I
      tell you he was some mixer?&rdquo; demanded Cousin Egbert of me, but I was too
      sickened to make any suitable response. The Honourable George&rsquo;s possession
      of a single spat was now flaunted, as it were, in the face of Red Gap&rsquo;s
      best families.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;How foreign it all is!&rdquo; he repeated, turning back to us, yet with only
      his side-glance for me. &ldquo;But the American Johnny in London had a much
      smarter coach than this, and better animals, too. You&rsquo;re not up to his
      class yet, old thing!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;That dish-faced pinto on the off side,&rdquo; remarked the driver, &ldquo;can outrun
      anything in this town for fun, money, or marbles.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Marbles!&rdquo; called the Honourable George to us; &ldquo;why marbles? Silly things!
      It&rsquo;s all bally strange! And why do your villagers stare so?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Some little mixer, all right, all right,&rdquo; murmured Cousin Egbert in a
      sort of ecstasy, as we drew up at the Floud home. &ldquo;And yet one of them
      guys back there called him a typical Britisher. You bet I shut him up
      quick&mdash;saying a thing like that about a plumb stranger. I&rsquo;d &lsquo;a&rsquo; mixed
      it with him right there except I thought it was better to have things nice
      and not start something the minute the Judge got here.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      With all possible speed I hurried the party indoors, for already faces
      were appearing at the windows of neighbouring houses. Mrs. Effie, who met
      us, allowed her glare at Cousin Egbert, I fancy, to affect the cordiality
      of her greeting to the Honourable George; at least she seemed to be quite
      as dazed as he, and there was a moment of constraint before he went on up
      to the room that had been prepared for him. Once safely within the room I
      contrived a moment alone with him and removed his single spat, not too
      gently, I fear, for the nervous strain since his arrival had told upon me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You have reason to be thankful,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;that Belknap-Jackson was not
      present to witness this.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;They cost seven and six,&rdquo; he muttered, regarding the one spat wistfully.
      &ldquo;But why Belknap-Jackson?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Mr. C. Belknap-Jackson of Boston and Red Gap,&rdquo; I returned sternly. &ldquo;He
      does himself perfectly. To think he might have seen you in this rowdyish
      state!&rdquo; And I hastened to seek a presentable lounge-suit from his bags.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Everything is so strange,&rdquo; he muttered again, quite helplessly. &ldquo;And why
      the mural decoration at the edge of the settlement? Why keep one&rsquo;s eye
      upon it? Why should they do such things? I say, it&rsquo;s all quite monstrous,
      you know.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I saw that indeed he was quite done for with amazement, so I ran him a
      bath and procured him a dish of tea. He rambled oddly at moments of things
      the guard on the night-coach had told him of North America, of Niagara
      Falls, and Missouri and other objects of interest. He was still almost
      quite a bit dotty when I was obliged to leave him for an appointment with
      the raccoon and his wife to discuss the menu of my opening dinner, but
      Cousin Egbert, who had rejoined us, was listening sympathetically. As I
      left, the two were pegging it from a bottle of hunting sherry which the
      Honourable George had carried in his dispatch-case. I was about to warn
      him that he would come out spotted, but instantly I saw that there must be
      an end to such surveillance. I could not manage an enterprise of the
      magnitude of the United States Grill and yet have an eye to his meat and
      drink. I resolved to let spots come as they would.
    </p>
    <p>
      On all hands I was now congratulated by members of the North Side set upon
      the master-stroke I had played in adding the Honourable George to their
      number. Not only did it promise to reunite certain warring factions in the
      North Side set itself, but it truly bade fair to disintegrate the Bohemian
      set. Belknap-Jackson wrung my hand that afternoon, begging me to inform
      the Honourable George that he would call on the morrow to pay his
      respects. Mrs. Judge Ballard besought me to engage him for an early
      dinner, and Mrs. Effie, it is needless to say, after recovering from the
      shock of his arrival, which she attributed to Cousin Egbert&rsquo;s want of
      taste, thanked me with a wealth of genuine emotion.
    </p>
    <p>
      Only by slight degrees, then, did it fall to be noticed that the
      Honourable George did not hold himself to be too strictly bound by our
      social conventions as to whom one should be pally with. Thus, on the
      morrow, at the hour when the Belknap-Jacksons called, he was regrettably
      absent on what Cousin Egbert called &ldquo;a hack-ride&rdquo; with the driver person
      he had met the day before, nor did they return until after the callers had
      waited the better part of two hours. Cousin Egbert, as usual, received the
      blame for this, yet neither of the Belknap-Jacksons nor Mrs. Effie dared
      to upbraid him.
    </p>
    <p>
      Being presented to the callers, I am bound to say that the Honourable
      George showed himself to be immensely impressed by Belknap-Jackson, whom I
      had never beheld more perfectly vogue in all his appointments. He became,
      in fact, rather moody in the presence of this subtle niceness of detail,
      being made conscious, I dare say, of his own sloppy lounge-suit, rumpled
      cravat, and shocking boots, and despite Belknap-Jackson&rsquo;s amiable efforts
      to draw him into talk about hunting in the shires and our county society
      at home, I began to fear that they would not hit it off together. The
      Honourable George did, however, consent to drive with his caller the
      following day, and I relied upon the tandem to recall him to his better
      self. But when the callers had departed he became quite almost plaintive
      to me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I say, you know, I shan&rsquo;t be wanted to pal up much with that chap, shall
      I? I mean to say, he wears so many clothes. They make me writhe as if I
      wore them myself. It won&rsquo;t do, you know.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I told him very firmly that this was piffle of the most wretched sort.
      That his caller wore but the prescribed number of garments, each vogue to
      the last note, and that he was a person whom one must know. He responded
      pettishly that he vastly preferred the gentleman driver with whom he had
      spent the afternoon, and &ldquo;Sour-dough,&rdquo; as he was now calling Cousin
      Egbert.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Jolly chaps, with no swank,&rdquo; he insisted. &ldquo;We drove quite almost
      everywhere&mdash;waterworks, cemetery, sash-and-blind factory. You know I
      thought &lsquo;blind factory&rsquo; was some of their bally American slang for the
      shop of a chap who made eyeglasses and that sort of thing, but nothing of
      the kind. They saw up timbers there quite all over the place and nail them
      up again into articles. It&rsquo;s all quite foreign.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Nor was his account of his drive with Belknap-Jackson the following day a
      bit more reassuring.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He wouldn&rsquo;t stop again at the sash-and-blind factory, where I wished to
      see the timbers being sawed and nailed, but drove me to a country club
      which was not in the country and wasn&rsquo;t a club; not a human there, not
      even a barman. Fancy a club of that sort! But he took me to his own house
      for a glass of sherry and a biscuit, and there it wasn&rsquo;t so rotten. Rather
      a mother-in-law I think, she is&mdash;bally old booming grenadier&mdash;topping
      sort&mdash;no end of fun. We palled up immensely and I quite forgot the
      Jackson chap till it was time for him to drive me back to these diggings.
      Rather sulky he was, I fancy; uppish sort. Told him the old one was quite
      like old Caroline, dowager duchess of Clewe, but couldn&rsquo;t tell if it
      pleased him. Seemed to like it and seemed not to: rather uncertain.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Asked him why the people of the settlement pronounced his name &lsquo;Belknap
      Hyphen Jackson,&rsquo; and that seemed to make him snarky again. I mean to say
      names with hyphen marks in &lsquo;em&mdash;I&rsquo;d never heard the hyphen pronounced
      before, but everything is so strange. He said only the lowest classes did
      it as a form of coarse wit, and that he was wasting himself here. Wouldn&rsquo;t
      stay another day if it were not for family reasons. Queer sort of wheeze
      to say &lsquo;hyphen&rsquo; in a chap&rsquo;s name as if it were a word, when it wasn&rsquo;t at
      all. The old girl, though&mdash;bellower she is&mdash;perfectly top-hole;
      familiar with cattle&mdash;all that sort of thing. Sent away the chap&rsquo;s
      sherry and had &lsquo;em bring whiskey and soda. The hyphen chap fidgeted a good
      bit&mdash;nervous sort, I take it. Looked through a score of magazines, I
      dare say, when he found we didn&rsquo;t notice him much; turned the leaves too
      fast to see anything, though; made noises and coughed&mdash;that sort of
      thing. Fine old girl. Daughter, hyphen chap&rsquo;s wife, tried to talk, too,
      some rot about the season being well on here, and was there a good deal of
      society in London, and would I be free for dinner on the ninth?
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Silly chatter! old girl talked sense: cattle, mines, timber, blind
      factory, two-year olds, that kind of thing. Shall see her often. Not the
      hyphen chap, though; too much like one of those Bond Street milliner-chap
      managers.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Vague misgivings here beset me as to the value of the Honourable George to
      the North Side set. Nor could I feel at all reassured on the following day
      when Mrs. Effie held an afternoon reception in his honour. That he should
      be unaware of the event&rsquo;s importance was to be expected, for as yet I had
      been unable to get him to take the Red Gap social crisis seriously. At the
      hour when he should have been dressed and ready I found him playing at
      cribbage with Cousin Egbert in the latter&rsquo;s apartment, and to my dismay he
      insisted upon finishing the rubber although guests were already arriving.
    </p>
    <p>
      Even when the game was done he flatly refused to dress suitably, declaring
      that his lounge-suit should be entirely acceptable to these rough frontier
      people, and he consented to go down at all only on condition that Cousin
      Egbert would accompany him. Thereafter for an hour the two of them drank
      tea uncomfortably as often as it was given them, and while the Honourable
      George undoubtedly made his impression, I could not but regret that he had
      so few conversational graces.
    </p>
    <p>
      How different, I reflected, had been my own entrée into this county
      society! As well as I might I again carried off the day for the Honourable
      George, endeavouring from time to time to put him at his ease, yet he
      breathed an unfeigned sigh of relief when the last guest had left and he
      could resume his cribbage with Cousin Egbert. But he had received one
      impression of which I was glad: an impression of my own altered social
      quality, for I had graced the occasion with an urbanity which was as far
      beyond him as it must have been astonishing. It was now that he began to
      take seriously what I had told him of my business enterprise, so many of
      the guests having mentioned it to him in terms of the utmost enthusiasm.
      After my first accounts to him he had persisted in referring to it as a
      tuck-shop, a sort of place where schoolboys would exchange their halfpence
      for toffy, sweet-cakes, and marbles.
    </p>
    <p>
      Now he demanded to be shown the premises and was at once duly impressed
      both with their quiet elegance and my own business acumen. How it had all
      come about, and why I should be addressed as &ldquo;Colonel Ruggles&rdquo; and treated
      as a person of some importance in the community, I dare say he has never
      comprehended to this day. As I had planned to do, I later endeavoured to
      explain to him that in North America persons were almost quite equal to
      one another&mdash;being born so&mdash;but at this he told me not to be
      silly and continued to regard my rise as an insoluble part of the
      strangeness he everywhere encountered, even after I added that Demosthenes
      was the son of a cutler, that Cardinal Wolsey&rsquo;s father had been a pork
      butcher, and that Garfield had worked on a canal-boat. I found him quite
      hopeless. &ldquo;Chaps go dotty talkin&rsquo; that piffle,&rdquo; was his comment.
    </p>
    <p>
      At another time, I dare say, I should have been rather distressed over
      this inability of the Honourable George to comprehend and adapt himself to
      the peculiarities of American life as readily as I had done, but just now
      I was quite too taken up with the details of my opening to give it the
      deeper consideration it deserved. In fact, there were moments when I
      confessed to myself that I did not care tuppence about it, such was the
      strain upon my executive faculties. When decorators and furnishers had
      done their work, when the choice carpet was laid, when the kitchen and
      table equipments were completed to the last detail, and when the lighting
      was artistically correct, there was still the matter of service.
    </p>
    <p>
      As to this, I conceived and carried out what I fancy was rather a
      brilliant stroke, which was nothing less than to eliminate the fellow
      Hobbs as a social factor of even the Bohemian set. In contracting with him
      for my bread and rolls, I took an early opportunity of setting the chap in
      his place, as indeed it was not difficult to do when he had observed the
      splendid scale on which I was operating. At our second interview he was
      removing his hat and addressing me as &ldquo;sir.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      While I have found that I can quite gracefully place myself on a level
      with the middle-class American, there is a serving type of our own people
      to which I shall eternally feel superior; the Hobbs fellow was of this
      sort, having undeniably the soul of a lackey. In addition to jobbing his
      bread and rolls, I engaged him as pantry man, and took on such members of
      his numerous family as were competent. His wife was to assist my raccoon
      cook in the kitchen, three of his sons were to serve as waiters, and his
      youngest, a lad in his teens, I installed as vestiare, garbing him in a
      smart uniform and posting him to relieve my gentleman patrons of their
      hats and top-coats. A daughter was similarly installed as maid, and the
      two achieved an effect of smartness unprecedented in Red Gap, an effect to
      which I am glad to say that the community responded instantly.
    </p>
    <p>
      In other establishments it was the custom for patrons to hang their
      garments on hat-pegs, often under a printed warning that the proprietor
      would disclaim responsibility in case of loss. In the one known as &ldquo;Bert&rsquo;s
      Place&rdquo; indeed the warning was positively vulgar: &ldquo;Watch Your Overcoat.&rdquo; Of
      course that sort of coarseness would have been impossible in my own place.
    </p>
    <p>
      As another important detail I had taken over from Mrs. Judson her stock of
      jellies and compotes which I had found to be of a most excellent
      character, and had ordered as much more as she could manage to produce,
      together with cut flowers from her garden for my tables. She, herself,
      being a young woman of the most pleasing capabilities, had done a bit of
      charring for me and was now to be in charge of the glassware, linen, and
      silver. I had found her, indeed, highly sympathetic with my highest aims,
      and not a few of her suggestions as to management proved to be entirely
      sound. Her unspeakable dog continued his quite objectionable advances to
      me at every opportunity, in spite of my hitting him about, rather, when I
      could do so unobserved, but the sinister interpretation that might be
      placed upon this by the baser-minded was now happily answered by the
      circumstance of her being in my employment. Her child, I regret to say,
      was still grossly overfed, seldom having its face free from jam or other
      smears. It persisted, moreover, in twisting my name into &ldquo;Ruggums,&rdquo; which
      I found not a little embarrassing.
    </p>
    <p>
      The night of my opening found me calmly awaiting the triumph that was due
      me. As some one has said of Napoleon, I had won my battle in my tent
      before the firing of a single shot. I mean to say, I had looked so
      conscientiously after details, even to assuring myself that Cousin Egbert
      and the Honourable George would appear in evening dress, my last act
      having been to coerce each of them into purchasing varnished boots, the
      former submitting meekly enough, though the Honourable George insisted it
      was a silly fuss.
    </p>
    <p>
      At seven o&rsquo;clock, having devoted a final inspection to the kitchen where
      the female raccoon was well on with the dinner, and having noted that the
      members of my staff were in their places, I gave a last pleased survey of
      my dining-room, with its smartly equipped tables, flower-bedecked,
      gleaming in the softened light from my shaded candlesticks. Truly it was a
      scene of refined elegance such as Red Gap had never before witnessed
      within its own confines, and I had seen to it that the dinner as well
      would mark an epoch in the lives of these simple but worthy people.
    </p>
    <p>
      Not a heavy nor a cloying repast would they find. Indeed, the bare
      simplicity of my menu, had it been previously disclosed, would doubtless
      have disappointed more than one of my dinner-giving patronesses; but each
      item had been perfected to an extent never achieved by them. Their
      weakness had ever been to serve a profusion of neutral dishes, pleasing
      enough to the eye, but unedifying except as a spectacle. I mean to say, as
      food it was noncommittal; it failed to intrigue.
    </p>
    <p>
      I should serve only a thin soup, a fish, small birds, two vegetables, a
      salad, a sweet and a savoury, but each item would prove worthy of the
      profoundest consideration. In the matter of thin soup, for example, the
      local practice was to serve a fluid of which, beyond the circumstance that
      it was warmish and slightly tinted, nothing of interest could ever be
      ascertained. My own thin soup would be a revelation to them. Again, in the
      matter of fish. This course with the hostesses of Red Gap had seemed to be
      merely an excuse for a pause. I had truly sympathized with Cousin Egbert&rsquo;s
      bitter complaint: &ldquo;They hand you a dab of something about the size of a
      watch-charm with two strings of potato.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      For the first time, then, the fish course in Red Gap was to be an event,
      an abundant portion of native fish with a lobster sauce which I had
      carried out to its highest power. My birds, hot from the oven, would be
      food in the strictest sense of the word, my vegetables cooked with a
      zealous attention, and my sweet immensely appealing without being
      pretentiously spectacular. And for what I believed to be quite the first
      time in the town, good coffee would be served. Disheartening, indeed, had
      been the various attenuations of coffee which had been imposed upon me in
      my brief career as a diner-out among these people. Not one among them had
      possessed the genius to master an acceptable decoction of the berry, the
      bald simplicity of the correct formula being doubtless incredible to them.
    </p>
    <p>
      The blare of a motor horn aroused me from this musing, and from that
      moment I had little time for meditation until the evening, as the <i>Journal</i>
      recorded the next morning, &ldquo;had gone down into history.&rdquo; My patrons
      arrived in groups, couples, or singly, almost faster than I could seat
      them. The Hobbs lad, as vestiare, would halt them for hats and wraps,
      during which pause they would emit subdued cries of surprise and delight
      at my beautifully toned ensemble, after which, as they walked to their
      tables, it was not difficult to see that they were properly impressed.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mrs. Effie, escorted by the Honourable George and cousin Egbert, was among
      the early arrivals; the Senator being absent from town at a sitting of the
      House. These were quickly followed by the Belknap-Jacksons and the Mixer,
      resplendent in purple satin and diamonds, all being at one of my large
      tables, so that the Honourable George sat between Mrs. Belknap-Jackson and
      Mrs. Effie, though he at first made a somewhat undignified essay to seat
      himself next the Mixer. Needless to say, all were in evening dress, though
      the Honourable George had fumbled grossly with his cravat and rumpled his
      shirt, nor had he submitted to having his beard trimmed, as I had warned
      him to do. As for Belknap-Jackson, I had never beheld him more truly vogue
      in every detail, and his slightly austere manner in any Red Gap gathering
      had never set him better. Both Mrs. Belknap-Jackson and Mrs. Effie wielded
      their lorgnons upon the later comers, thus giving their table quite an
      air.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mrs. Judge Ballard, who had come to be one of my staunchest adherents,
      occupied an adjacent table with her family party and two or three of the
      younger dancing set. The Indian Tuttle with his wife and two daughters
      were also among the early comers, and I could not but marvel anew at the
      red man&rsquo;s histrionic powers. In almost quite correct evening attire, and
      entirely decorous in speech and gesture, he might readily have been
      thought some one that mattered, had he not at an early opportunity caught
      my eye and winked with a sly significance.
    </p>
    <p>
      Quite almost every one of the North Side set was present, imparting to my
      room a general air of distinguished smartness, and in addition there were
      not a few of what Belknap-Jackson had called the &ldquo;rabble,&rdquo; persons of no
      social value, to be sure, but honest, well-mannered folk, small tradesmen,
      shop-assistants, and the like. These plain people, I may say, I took
      especial pains to welcome and put at their ease, for I had resolved, in
      effect, to be one of them, after the manner prescribed by their
      Declaration thing.
    </p>
    <p>
      With quite all of them I chatted easily a moment or two, expressing the
      hope that they would be well pleased with their entertainment. I noted
      while thus engaged that Belknap-Jackson eyed me with frank and superior
      cynicism, but this affected me quite not at all and I took pains to point
      my indifference, chatting with increased urbanity with the two
      cow-persons, Hank and Buck, who had entered rather uncertainly, not in
      evening dress, to be sure, but in decent black as befitted their stations.
      When I had prevailed upon them to surrender their hats to the vestiare and
      had seated them at a table for two, they informed me in hoarse undertones
      that they were prepared to &ldquo;put a bet down on every card from soda to
      hock,&rdquo; so that I at first suspected they had thought me conducting a
      gaming establishment, but ultimately gathered that they were merely
      expressing a cordial determination to enter into the spirit of the
      occasion.
    </p>
    <p>
      There then entered, somewhat to my uneasiness, the Klondike woman and her
      party. Being almost the last, it will be understood that they created no
      little sensation as she led them down the thronged room to her table. She
      was wearing an evening gown of lustrous black with the apparently simple
      lines that are so baffling to any but the expert maker, with a black
      picture hat that suited her no end. I saw more than one matron of the
      North Side set stiffen in her seat, while Mrs. Belknap-Jackson and Mrs.
      Effie turned upon her the chilling broadside of their lorgnons.
      Belknap-Jackson merely drew himself up austerely. The three other women of
      her party, flutterers rather, did little but set off their hostess. The
      four men were of a youngish sort, chaps in banks, chemists&rsquo; assistants,
      that sort of thing, who were constantly to be seen in her train. They were
      especially reprobated by the matrons of the correct set by reason of their
      deliberately choosing to ally themselves with the Bohemian set.
    </p>
    <p>
      Acutely feeling the antagonism aroused by this group, I was momentarily
      discouraged in a design I had half formed of using my undoubted influence
      to unite the warring social factions of Red Gap, even as Bismarck had once
      brought the warring Prussian states together in a federated Germany. I
      began to see that the Klondike woman would forever prove unacceptable to
      the North Side set. The cliques would unite against her, even if one
      should find in her a spirit of reconciliation, which I supremely doubted.
    </p>
    <p>
      The bustle having in a measure subsided, I gave orders for the soup to be
      served, at the same time turning the current into the electric pianoforte.
      I had wished for this opening number something attractive yet dignified,
      which would in a manner of speaking symbolize an occasion to me at least
      highly momentous. To this end I had chosen Handel&rsquo;s celebrated Largo, and
      at the first strains of this highly meritorious composition I knew that I
      had chosen surely. I am sure the piece was indelibly engraved upon the
      minds of those many dinner-givers who were for the first time in their
      lives realizing that a thin soup may be made a thing to take seriously.
    </p>
    <p>
      Nominally, I occupied a seat at the table with the Belknap-Jacksons and
      Mrs. Effie, though I apprehended having to be more or less up and down in
      the direction of my staff. Having now seated myself to soup, I was for the
      first time made aware of the curious behaviour of the Honourable George.
      Disregarding his own soup, which was of itself unusual with him, he was
      staring straight ahead with a curious intensity. A half turn of my head
      was enough. He sat facing the Klondike woman. As I again turned a bit I
      saw that under cover of her animated converse with her table companions
      she was at intervals allowing her very effective eyes to rest, as if
      absently, upon him. I may say now that a curious chill seized me, bringing
      with it a sudden psychic warning that all was not going to be as it should
      be. Some calamity impended. The man was quite apparently fascinated,
      staring with a fixed, hypnotic intensity that had already been noted by
      his companions on either side.
    </p>
    <p>
      With a word about the soup, shot quickly and directly at him, I managed to
      divert his gaze, but his eyes had returned even before the spoon had gone
      once to his lips. The second time there was a soup stain upon his already
      rumpled shirt front. Presently it became only too horribly certain that
      the man was out of himself, for when the fish course was served he
      remained serenely unconscious that none of the lobster sauce accompanied
      his own portion. It was a rich sauce, and the almost immediate effect of
      shell-fish upon his complexion being only too well known to me, I had
      directed that his fish should be served without it, though I had fully
      expected him to row me for it and perhaps create a scene. The circumstance
      of his blindly attacking the unsauced fish was eloquent indeed.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Belknap-Jacksons and Mrs. Effie were now plainly alarmed, and somewhat
      feverishly sought to engage his attention, with the result only that he
      snapped monosyllables at them without removing his gaze from its mark. And
      the woman was now too obviously pluming herself upon the effect she had
      achieved; upon us all she flashed an amused consciousness of her power,
      yet with a fine affectation of quite ignoring us. I was here obliged to
      leave the table to oversee the serving of the wine, returning after an
      interval to find the situation unchanged, save that the woman no longer
      glanced at the Honourable George. Such were her tactics. Having enmeshed
      him, she confidently left him to complete his own undoing. I had returned
      with the serving of the small birds. Observing his own before him, the
      Honourable George wished to be told why he had not been served with fish,
      and only with difficulty could be convinced that he had partaken of this.
      &ldquo;Of course in public places one must expect to come into contact with
      persons of that sort,&rdquo; remarked Mrs. Effie.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Something should be done about it,&rdquo; observed Mrs. Belknap-Jackson, and
      they both murmured &ldquo;Creature!&rdquo; though it was plain that the Honourable
      George had little notion to whom they referred. Observing, however, that
      the woman no longer glanced at him, he fell to his bird somewhat
      whole-heartedly, as indeed did all my guests.
    </p>
    <p>
      From every side I could hear eager approval of the repast which was now
      being supplemented at most of the tables by a sound wine of the Burgundy
      type which I had recommended or by a dry champagne. Meantime, the electric
      pianoforte played steadily through a repertoire that had progressed from
      the Largo to more vivacious pieces of the American folkdance school. As
      was said in the press the following day, &ldquo;Gayety and good-feeling reigned
      supreme, and one and all felt that it was indeed good to be there.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Through the sweet and the savoury the dinner progressed, the latter
      proving to be a novelty that the hostesses of Red Gap thereafter slavishly
      copied, and with the advent of the coffee ensued a noticeable relaxation.
      People began to visit one another&rsquo;s tables and there was a blithe
      undercurrent of praise for my efforts to smarten the town&rsquo;s public dining.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Klondike woman, I fancy, was the first to light a cigarette, though
      quickly followed by the ladies of her party. Mrs. Belknap-Jackson and Mrs.
      Effie, after a period of futile glaring at her through the lorgnons,
      seemed to make their resolves simultaneously, and forthwith themselves
      lighted cigarettes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Of course it&rsquo;s done in the smart English restaurants,&rdquo; murmured
      Belknap-Jackson as he assisted the ladies to their lights. Thereupon Mrs.
      Judge Ballard, farther down the room, began to smoke what I believe was
      her first cigarette, which proved to be a signal for other ladies of the
      Onwards and Upwards Society to do the same, Mrs. Ballard being their
      president. It occurred to me that these ladies were grimly bent on showing
      the Klondike woman that they could trifle quite as gracefully as she with
      the lesser vices of Bohemia; or perhaps they wished to demonstrate to the
      younger dancing men in her train that the North Side set was not
      desolately austere in its recreation. The Honourable George, I regret to
      say, produced a smelly pipe which he would have lighted; but at a shocked
      and cold glance from me he put it by and allowed the Mixer to roll him one
      of the yellow paper cigarettes from a sack of tobacco which she had
      produced from some secret recess of her costume.
    </p>
    <p>
      Cousin Egbert had been excitedly happy throughout the meal and now paid me
      a quaint compliment upon the food. &ldquo;Some eats, Bill!&rdquo; he called to me. &ldquo;I
      got to hand it to you,&rdquo; though what precisely it was he wished to hand me
      I never ascertained, for the Mixer at that moment claimed my attention
      with a compliment of her own. &ldquo;That,&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;is the only dinner I&rsquo;ve
      eaten for a long time that was composed entirely of food.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      This hour succeeding the repast I found quite entirely agreeable, more
      than one person that mattered assuring me that I had assisted Red Gap to a
      notable advance in the finest and correctest sense of the word, and it was
      with a very definite regret that I beheld my guests departing. Returning
      to our table from a group of these who had called me to make their adieus,
      I saw that a most regrettable incident had occurred&mdash;nothing less
      than the formal presentation of the Honourable George to the Klondike
      woman. And the Mixer had appallingly done it!
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Everything is so strange here,&rdquo; I heard him saying as I passed their
      table, and the woman echoed, &ldquo;Everything!&rdquo; while her glance enveloped him
      with a curious effect of appraisal. The others of her party were making
      much of him, I could see, quite as if they had preposterous designs of
      wresting him from the North Side set to be one of themselves. Mrs.
      Belknap-Jackson and Mrs. Effie affected to ignore the meeting.
      Belknap-Jackson stared into vacancy with a quite shocked expression as if
      vandals had desecrated an altar in his presence. Cousin Egbert having
      drawn off one of his newly purchased boots during the dinner was now
      replacing it with audible groans, but I caught his joyous comment a moment
      later: &ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t I tell you the Judge was some mixer?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Mixing, indeed,&rdquo; snapped the ladies.
    </p>
    <p>
      A half-hour later the historic evening had come to an end. The last guest
      had departed, and all of my staff, save Mrs. Judson and her male child.
      These I begged to escort to their home, since the way was rather far and
      dark. The child, incautiously left in the kitchen at the mercy of the
      female black, had with criminal stupidity been stuffed with food, traces
      of almost every course of the dinner being apparent upon its puffy
      countenance. Being now in a stupor from overfeeding, I was obliged to lug
      the thing over my shoulder. I resolved to warn the mother at an early
      opportunity of the perils of an unrestricted diet, although the deluded
      creature seemed actually to glory in its corpulence. I discovered when
      halfway to her residence that the thing was still tightly clutching the
      gnawed thigh-bone of a fowl which was spotting the shoulder of my smartest
      top-coat. The mother, however, was so ingenuously delighted with my
      success and so full of prattle concerning my future triumphs that I
      forbore to instruct her at this time. I may say that of all my staff she
      had betrayed the most intelligent understanding of my ideals, and I bade
      her good-night with a strong conviction that she would greatly assist me
      in the future. She also promised that Mr. Barker should thereafter be
      locked in a cellar at such times as she was serving me.
    </p>
    <p>
      Returning through the town, I heard strains of music from the
      establishment known as &ldquo;Bert&rsquo;s Place,&rdquo; and was shocked on staring through
      his show window to observe the Honourable George and Cousin Egbert
      waltzing madly with the cow-persons, Hank and Buck, to the strains of a
      mechanical piano. The Honourable George had exchanged his top-hat for his
      partner&rsquo;s cow-person hat, which came down over his ears in a most
      regrettable manner.
    </p>
    <p>
      I thought it best not to intrude upon their coarse amusement and went on
      to the grill to see that all was safe for the night. Returning from my
      inspection some half-hour later, I came upon the two, Cousin Egbert in the
      lead, the Honourable George behind him. They greeted me somewhat
      boisterously, but I saw that they were now content to return home and to
      bed. As they walked somewhat mincingly, I noticed that they were in their
      hose, carrying their varnished boots in either hand.
    </p>
    <p>
      Of the Honourable George, who still wore the cow-person&rsquo;s hat, I began now
      to have the gravest doubts. There had been an evil light in the eyes of
      the Klondike woman and her Bohemian cohorts as they surveyed him. As he
      preceded me I heard him murmur ecstatically: &ldquo;Sush is life.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER FIFTEEN
    </h2>
    <p>
      Launched now upon a business venture that would require my unremitting
      attention if it were to prosper, it may be imagined that I had little
      leisure for the social vagaries of the Honourable George, shocking as
      these might be to one&rsquo;s finer tastes. And yet on the following morning I
      found time to tell him what. To put it quite bluntly, I gave him beans for
      his loose behaviour the previous evening, in publicly ogling and meeting
      as an equal one whom one didn&rsquo;t know.
    </p>
    <p>
      To my amazement, instead of being heartily ashamed of his licentiousness,
      I found him recalcitrant. Stubborn as a mule he was and with a low animal
      cunning that I had never given him credit for. &ldquo;Demosthenes was the son of
      a cutler,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;and Napoleon worked on a canal-boat, what? Didn&rsquo;t you
      say so yourself, you juggins, what? Fancy there being upper and lower
      classes among natives! What rot! And I like North America. I don&rsquo;t mind
      telling you straight I&rsquo;m going to take it up.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Horrified by these reckless words, I could only say &ldquo;Noblesse oblige,&rdquo;
       meaning to convey that whatever the North Americans did, the next Earl of
      Brinstead must not meet persons one doesn&rsquo;t know, whereat he rejoined
      tartly that I was &ldquo;to stow that piffle!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Being now quite alarmed, I took the further time to call upon
      Belknap-Jackson, believing that he, if any one, could recall the
      Honourable George to his better nature. He, too, was shocked, as I had
      been, and at first would have put the blame entirely upon the shoulders of
      Cousin Egbert, but at this I was obliged to admit that the Honourable
      George had too often shown a regrettable fondness for the society of
      persons that did not matter, especially females, and I cited the case of
      the typing-girl and the Brixton millinery person, with either of whom he
      would have allied himself in marriage had not his lordship intervened.
      Belknap-Jackson was quite properly horrified at these revelations.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Has he no sense of &lsquo;Noblesse oblige&rsquo;?&rdquo; he demanded, at which I quoted the
      result of my own use of this phrase to the unfortunate man. Quite too
      plain it was that &ldquo;Noblesse oblige!&rdquo; would never stop him from yielding to
      his baser impulses.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;We must be tactful, then,&rdquo; remarked Belknap-Jackson. &ldquo;Without appearing
      to oppose him we must yet show him who is really who in Red Gap. We shall
      let him see that we have standards which must be as rigidly adhered to as
      those of an older civilization. I fancy it can be done.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Privately I fancied not, yet I forbore to say this or to prolong the
      painful interview, particularly as I was due at the United States Grill.
    </p>
    <p>
      The <i>Recorder</i> of that morning had done me handsomely, declaring my
      opening to have been a social event long to be remembered, and describing
      the costumes of a dozen or more of the smartly gowned matrons, quite as if
      it had been an assembly ball. My task now was to see that the Grill was
      kept to the high level of its opening, both as a social ganglion, if one
      may use the term, and as a place to which the public would ever turn for
      food that mattered. For my first luncheon the raccoons had prepared, under
      my direction, a steak-and-kidney pie, in addition to which I offered a
      thick soup and a pudding of high nutritive value.
    </p>
    <p>
      To my pleased astonishment the crowd at midday was quite all that my staff
      could serve, several of the Hobbs brood being at school, and the luncheon
      was received with every sign of approval by the business persons who sat
      to it. Not only were there drapers, chemists, and shop-assistants, but
      solicitors and barristers, bankers and estate agents, and all quite eager
      with their praise of my fare. To each of these I explained that I should
      give them but few things, but that these would be food in the finest sense
      of the word, adding that the fault of the American school lay in
      attempting a too-great profusion of dishes, none of which in consequence
      could be raised to its highest power.
    </p>
    <p>
      So sound was my theory and so nicely did my simple-dished luncheon
      demonstrate it that I was engaged on the spot to provide the bi-monthly
      banquet of the Chamber of Commerce, the president of which rather
      seriously proposed that it now be made a monthly affair, since they would
      no longer be at the mercy of a hotel caterer whose ambition ran inversely
      to his skill. Indeed, after the pudding, I was this day asked to become a
      member of the body, and I now felt that I was indubitably one of them&mdash;America
      and I had taken each other as seriously as could be desired.
    </p>
    <p>
      More than once during the afternoon I wondered rather painfully what the
      Honourable George might be doing. I knew that he had been promised to a
      meeting of the Onwards and Upwards Club through the influence of Mrs.
      Effie, where it had been hoped that he would give a talk on Country Life
      in England. At least she had hinted to them that he might do this, though
      I had known from the beginning that he would do nothing of the sort, and
      had merely hoped that he would appear for a dish of tea and stay quiet,
      which was as much as the North Side set could expect of him. Induced to
      speak, I was quite certain he would tell them straight that Country Life
      in England was silly rot, and that was all to it. Now, not having seen him
      during the day, I could but hope that he had attended the gathering in
      suitable afternoon attire, and that he would have divined that the
      cattle-person&rsquo;s hat did not coordinate with this.
    </p>
    <p>
      At four-thirty, while I was still concerned over the possible
      misadventures of the Honourable George, my first patrons for tea began to
      arrive, for I had let it be known that I should specialize in this.
      Toasted crumpets there were, and muffins, and a tea cake rich with plums,
      and tea, I need not say, which was all that tea could be. Several tables
      were filled with prominent ladies of the North Side set, who were loud in
      their exclamations of delight, especially at the finished smartness of my
      service, for it was perhaps now that the profoundly serious thought I had
      given to my silver, linen, and glassware showed to best advantage. I
      suspect that this was the first time many of my guests had encountered a
      tea cozy, since from that day they began to be prevalent in Red Gap homes.
      Also my wagon containing the crumpets, muffins, tea cake, jam and
      bread-and-butter, which I now used for the first time created a veritable
      sensation.
    </p>
    <p>
      There was an agreeable hum of chatter from these early comers when I found
      myself welcoming Mrs. Judge Ballard and half a dozen members of the
      Onwards and Upwards Club, all of them wearing what I made out to be a
      baffled look. From these I presently managed to gather that their guest of
      honour for the afternoon had simply not appeared, and that the meeting,
      after awaiting him for two hours, had dissolved in some resentment, the
      time having been spent chiefly in an unflattering dissection of the
      Klondike woman&rsquo;s behaviour the evening before.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He is a naughty man to disappoint us so cruelly!&rdquo; declared Mrs. Judge
      Ballard of the Honourable George, but the coquetry of it was feigned to
      cover a very real irritation. I made haste with possible excuses. I said
      that he might be ill, or that important letters in that day&rsquo;s post might
      have detained him. I knew he had been astonishingly well that morning,
      also that he loathed letters and almost practically never received any;
      but something had to be said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A naughty, naughty fellow!&rdquo; repeated Mrs. Ballard, and the members of her
      party echoed it. They had looked forward rather pathetically, I saw, to
      hearing about Country Life in England from one who had lived it.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was now drawn to greet the Belknap-Jacksons, who entered, and to the
      pleasure of winning their hearty approval for the perfection of my
      arrangements. As the wife presently joined Mrs. Ballard&rsquo;s group, the
      husband called me to his table and disclosed that almost the worst might
      be feared of the Honourable George. He was at that moment, it appeared,
      with a rabble of cow-persons and members of the lower class gathered at a
      stockade at the edge of town, where various native horses fresh from the
      wilderness were being taught to be ridden.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The wretched Floud is with him,&rdquo; continued my informant, &ldquo;also the Tuttle
      chap, who continues to be received by our best people in spite of my
      remonstrances, and he yells quite like a demon when one of the riders is
      thrown. I passed as quickly as I could. The spectacle was&mdash;of course
      I make allowances for Vane-Basingwell&rsquo;s ignorance of our standards&mdash;it
      was nothing short of disgusting; a man of his position consorting with the
      herd!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He told me no longer ago than this morning,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;that he was going
      to take up America.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He <i>has</i>!&rdquo; said Belknap-Jackson with bitter emphasis. &ldquo;You should
      see what he has on&mdash;a cowboy hat and chapps! And the very lowest of
      them are calling him &lsquo;Judge&rsquo;!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He flunked a meeting of the Onwards and Upwards Society,&rdquo; I added.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I know! I know! And who could have expected it in one of his lineage? At
      this very moment he should be conducting himself as one of his class. Can
      you wonder at my impatience with the West? Here at an hour when our social
      life should be in evidence, when all trade should be forgotten, I am the
      only man in the town who shows himself in a tea-room; and Vane-Basingwell
      over there debasing himself with our commonest sort!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      All at once I saw that I myself must bear the brunt of this scandal. I had
      brought hither the Honourable George, promising a personage who would for
      once and all unify the North Side set and perhaps disintegrate its rival.
      I had been felicitated upon my master-stroke. And now it seemed I had come
      a cropper. But I resolved not to give up, and said as much now to
      Belknap-Jackson.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I may be blamed for bringing him among you, but trust me if things are
      really as bad as they seem, I&rsquo;ll get him off again. I&rsquo;ll not let myself be
      bowled by such a silly lob as that. Trust me to devote profound thought to
      this problem.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;We all have every confidence in you,&rdquo; he assured me, &ldquo;but don&rsquo;t be too
      severe all at once with the chap. He might recover a sane balance even
      yet.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I shall use discretion,&rdquo; I assured him, &ldquo;but if it proves that I have
      fluffed my catch, rely upon me to use extreme measures.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Red Gap needs your best effort,&rdquo; he replied in a voice that brimmed with
      feeling.
    </p>
    <p>
      At five-thirty, my rush being over, I repaired to the neighbourhood where
      the Honourable George had been reported. The stockade now contained only a
      half-score of the untaught horses, but across the road from it was a
      public house, or saloon, from which came unmistakable sounds of carousing.
      It was an unsavoury place, frequented only by cattle and horse persons,
      the proprietor being an abandoned character named Spilmer, who had once
      done a patron to death in a drunken quarrel. Only slight legal
      difficulties had been made for him, however, it having been pleaded that
      he acted in self-defence, and the creature had at once resumed his trade
      as publican. There was even public sympathy for him at the time on the
      ground that he possessed a blind mother, though I have never been able to
      see that this should have been a factor in adjudging him.
    </p>
    <p>
      I paused now before the low place, imagining I could detect the tones of
      the Honourable George high above the chorus that came out to me. Deciding
      that in any event it would not become me to enter a resort of this stamp,
      I walked slowly back toward the more reputable part of town, and was
      presently rewarded by seeing the crowd emerge. It was led, I saw, by the
      Honourable George. The cattle-hat was still down upon his ears, and to my
      horror he had come upon the public thoroughfare with his legs encased in
      the chapps&mdash;a species of leathern pantalettes covered with goat&rsquo;s
      wool&mdash;a garment which I need not say no gentleman should be seen
      abroad in. As worn by the cow-persons in their daily toil they are only
      just possible, being as far from true vogue as anything well could be.
    </p>
    <p>
      Accompanying him were Cousin Egbert, the Indian Tuttle, the cow-persons,
      Hank and Buck, and three or four others of the same rough stamp.
      Unobtrusively I followed them to our main thoroughfare, deeply humiliated
      by the atrocious spectacle the Honourable George was making of himself,
      only to observe them turn into another public house entitled &ldquo;The Family
      Liquor Store,&rdquo; where it seemed only too certain, since the bearing of all
      was highly animated, that they would again carouse.
    </p>
    <p>
      At once seeing my duty, I boldly entered, finding them aligned against the
      American bar and clamouring for drink. My welcome was heartfelt, even
      enthusiastic, almost every one of them beginning to regale me with
      incidents of the afternoon&rsquo;s horse-breaking. The Honourable George, it
      seemed, had himself briefly mounted one of the animals, having fallen into
      the belief that the cow-persons did not try earnestly enough to stay on
      their mounts. I gathered that one experience had dissuaded him from this
      opinion.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;That there little paint horse,&rdquo; observed Cousin Egbert genially, &ldquo;stepped
      out from under the Judge the prettiest you ever saw.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He sure did,&rdquo; remarked the Honourable George, with a palpable effort to
      speak the American brogue. &ldquo;A most flighty beast he was&mdash;nerves all
      gone&mdash;I dare say a hopeless neurasthenic.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      And then when I would have rebuked him for so shamefully disappointing the
      ladies of the Onwards and Upwards Society, he began to tell me of the
      public house he had just left.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I say, you know that Spilmer chap, he&rsquo;s a genuine murderer&mdash;he let
      me hold the weapon with which he did it&mdash;and he has blind relatives
      dependent upon him, or something of that sort, otherwise I fancy they&rsquo;d
      have sent him to the gallows. And, by Gad! he&rsquo;s a witty scoundrel, what!
      Looking at his sign&mdash;leaving the settlement it reads, &lsquo;Last Chance,&rsquo; 
      but entering the settlement it reads, &lsquo;First Chance.&rsquo; Last chance and
      first chance for a peg, do you see what I mean? I tried it out; walked
      both ways under the sign and looked up; it worked perfectly. Enter the
      settlement, &lsquo;First Chance&rsquo;; leave the settlement, &lsquo;Last Chance.&rsquo; Do you
      see what I mean? Suggestive, what! Witty! You&rsquo;d never have expected that
      murderer-Johnny to be so subtle. Our own murderers aren&rsquo;t that way. I say,
      it&rsquo;s a tremendous wheeze. I wonder the press-chaps don&rsquo;t take it up. It&rsquo;s
      better than the blind factory, though the chap&rsquo;s mother or something is
      blind. What ho! But that&rsquo;s silly! To be sure one has nothing to do with
      the other. I say, have another, you chaps! I&rsquo;ve not felt so fit in ages.
      I&rsquo;m going to take up America!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Plainly it was no occasion to use serious words to the man. He slapped his
      companions smartly on their backs and was slapped in turn by all of them.
      One or two of them called him an old horse! Not only was I doing no good
      for the North Side set, but I had felt obliged to consume two glasses of
      spirits that I did not wish. So I discreetly withdrew. As I went, the
      Honourable George was again telling them that he was &ldquo;going in&rdquo; for North
      America, and Cousin Egbert was calling &ldquo;Three rousing cheers!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Thus luridly began, I may say, a scandal that was to be far-reaching in
      its dreadful effects. Far from feeling a proper shame on the following
      day, the Honourable George was as pleased as Punch with himself, declaring
      his intention of again consorting with the cattle and horse persons and
      very definitely declining an invitation to play at golf with
      Belknap-Jackson.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Golf!&rdquo; he spluttered. &ldquo;You do it, and then you&rsquo;ve directly to do it all
      over again. I mean to say, one gets nowhere. A silly game&mdash;what!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Wishing to be in no manner held responsible for his vicious pursuits, I
      that day removed my diggings from the Floud home to chambers in the
      Pettengill block above the Grill, where I did myself quite nicely with
      decent mantel ornaments, some vivacious prints of old-world cathedrals,
      and a few good books, having for body-servant one of the Hobbs lads who
      seemed rather teachable. I must admit, however, that I was frequently
      obliged to address him more sharply than one should ever address one&rsquo;s
      servant, my theory having always been that a serving person should be
      treated quite as if he were a gentleman temporarily performing menial
      duties, but there was that strain of lowness in all the Hobbses which
      often forbade this, a blending of servility with more or less skilfully
      dissembled impertinence, which I dare say is the distinguishing mark of
      our lower-class serving people.
    </p>
    <p>
      Removed now from the immediate and more intimate effects of the Honourable
      George&rsquo;s digressions, I was privileged for days at a time to devote my
      attention exclusively to my enterprise. It had thriven from the beginning,
      and after a month I had so perfected the minor details of management that
      everything was right as rain. In my catering I continued to steer a middle
      course between the British school of plain roast and boiled and a too
      often piffling French complexity, seeking to retain the desirable features
      of each. My luncheons for the tradesmen rather held to a cut from the
      joint with vegetables and a suitable sweet, while in my dinners I relaxed
      a bit into somewhat imaginative salads and entrées. For the tea-hour I
      constantly strove to provide some appetizing novelty, often, I confess,
      sacrificing nutrition to mere sightliness in view of my almost exclusive
      feminine patronage, yet never carrying this to an undignified extreme.
    </p>
    <p>
      As a result of my sound judgment, dinner-giving in Red Gap began that
      winter to be done almost entirely in my place. There might be small
      informal affairs at home, but for dinners of any pretension the hostesses
      of the North Side set came to me, relying almost quite entirely upon my
      taste in the selection of the menu. Although at first I was required to
      employ unlimited tact in dissuading them from strange and laboured
      concoctions, whose photographs they fetched me from their women&rsquo;s
      magazines, I at length converted them from this unwholesome striving for
      novelty and laid the foundations for that sound scheme of gastronomy which
      to-day distinguishes this fastest-growing town in the state, if not in the
      West of America.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was during these early months, I ought perhaps to say, that I rather
      distinguished myself in the matter of a relish which I compounded one day
      when there was a cold round of beef for luncheon. Little dreaming of the
      magnitude of the moment, I brought together English mustard and the
      American tomato catsup, in proportions which for reasons that will be made
      obvious I do not here disclose, together with three other and lesser
      condiments whose identity also must remain a secret. Serving this with my
      cold joint, I was rather amazed at the sensation it created. My patrons
      clamoured for it repeatedly and a barrister wished me to prepare a flask
      of it for use in his home. The following day it was again demanded and
      other requests were made for private supplies, while by the end of the
      week my relish had become rather famous. Followed a suggestion from Mrs.
      Judson as she overlooked my preparation of it one day from her own task of
      polishing the glassware.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Put it on the market,&rdquo; said she, and at once I felt the inspiration of
      her idea. To her I entrusted the formula. I procured a quantity of
      suitable flasks, while in her own home she compounded the stuff and filled
      them. Having no mind to claim credit not my own, I may now say that this
      rather remarkable woman also evolved the idea of the label, including the
      name, which was pasted upon the bottles when our product was launched.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ruggles&rsquo; International Relish&rdquo; she had named it after a moment&rsquo;s thought.
      Below was a print of my face taken from an excellent photographic
      portrait, followed by a brief summary of the article&rsquo;s unsurpassed
      excellence, together with a list of the viands for which it was commended.
      As the International Relish is now a matter of history, the demand for it
      having spread as far east as Chicago and those places, I may add that it
      was this capable woman again who devised the large placard for hoardings
      in which a middle-aged but glowing bon-vivant in evening dress rebukes the
      blackamoor who has served his dinner for not having at once placed
      Ruggles&rsquo; International Relish upon the table. The genial annoyance of the
      diner and the apologetic concern of the black are excellently depicted by
      the artist, for the original drawing of which I paid a stiffish price to
      the leading artist fellow of Spokane. This now adorns the wall of my
      sitting-room.
    </p>
    <p>
      It must not be supposed that I had been free during these months from
      annoyance and chagrin at the manner in which the Honourable George was
      conducting himself. In the beginning it was hoped both by Belknap-Jackson
      and myself that he might do no worse than merely consort with the rougher
      element of the town. I mean to say, we suspected that the apparent charm
      of the raffish cattle-persons might suffice to keep him from any notorious
      alliance with the dreaded Bohemian set. So long as he abstained from this
      he might still be received at our best homes, despite his regrettable
      fondness for low company. Even when he brought the murderer Spilmer to
      dine with him at my place, the thing was condoned as a freakish
      grotesquerie in one who, of unassailable social position, might well
      afford to stoop momentarily.
    </p>
    <p>
      I must say that the murderer&mdash;a heavy-jowled brute of husky voice,
      and quite lacking a forehead&mdash;conducted himself on this occasion with
      an entirely decent restraint of manner, quite in contrast to the
      Honourable George, who betrayed an expansively naïve pride in his guest,
      seeming to wish the world to know of the event. Between them they consumed
      a fair bottle of the relish. Indeed, the Honourable George was
      inordinately fond of this, as a result of which he would often come out
      quite spotty again. Cousin Egbert was another who became so addicted to it
      that his fondness might well have been called a vice. Both he and the
      Honourable George would drench quite every course with the sauce, and
      Cousin Egbert, with that explicit directness which distinguished his
      character, would frankly sop his bread-crusts in it, or even sip it with a
      coffee-spoon.
    </p>
    <p>
      As I have intimated, in spite of the Honourable George&rsquo;s affiliations with
      the slum-characters of what I may call Red Gap&rsquo;s East End, he had not yet
      publicly identified himself with the Klondike woman and her Bohemian set,
      in consequence of which&mdash;let him dine and wine a Spilmer as he would&mdash;there
      was yet hope that he would not alienate himself from the North Side set.
    </p>
    <p>
      At intervals during the early months of his sojourn among us he accepted
      dinner invitations at the Grill from our social leaders; in fact, after
      the launching of the International Relish, I know of none that he
      declined, but it was evident to me that he moved but half-heartedly in
      this higher circle. On one occasion, too, he appeared in the trousers of a
      lounge-suit of tweeds instead of his dress trousers, and with tan boots.
      The trousers, to be sure, were of a sombre hue, but the brown boots were
      quite too dreadfully unmistakable. After this I may say that I looked for
      anything, and my worst fears were soon confirmed.
    </p>
    <p>
      It began as the vaguest sort of gossip. The Honourable George, it was
      said, had been a guest at one of the Klondike woman&rsquo;s evening affairs. The
      rumour crystallized. He had been asked to meet the Bohemian set at a Dutch
      supper and had gone. He had lingered until a late hour, dancing the
      American folkdances (for which he had shown a surprising adaptability) and
      conducting himself generally as the next Earl of Brinstead should not have
      done. He had repeated his visit, repairing to the woman&rsquo;s house both
      afternoon and evening. He had become a constant visitor. He had spoken
      regrettably of the dulness of a meeting of the Onwards and Upwards Society
      which he had attended. He was in the woman&rsquo;s toils.
    </p>
    <p>
      With gossip of this sort there was naturally much indignation, and yet the
      leaders of the North Side set were so delicately placed that there was
      every reason for concealing it. They redoubled their attentions to the
      unfortunate man, seeking to leave him not an unoccupied evening or
      afternoon. Such was the gravity of the crisis. Belknap-Jackson alone
      remained finely judicial.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The situation is of the gravest character,&rdquo; he confided to me, &ldquo;but we
      must be wary. The day isn&rsquo;t lost so long as he doesn&rsquo;t appear publicly in
      the creature&rsquo;s train. For the present we have only unverified rumour. As a
      man about town Vane-Basingwell may feel free to consort with vicious
      companions and still maintain his proper standing. Deplore it as all
      right-thinking people must, under present social conditions he is
      undoubtedly free to lead what is called a double life. We can only wait.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Such was the state of the public mind, be it understood, up to the time of
      the notorious and scandalous defection of this obsessed creature, an
      occasion which I cannot recall without shuddering, and which inspired me
      to a course that was later to have the most inexplicable and far-reaching
      consequences.
    </p>
    <p>
      Theatrical plays had been numerous with us during the season, with the
      natural result of many after-theatre suppers being given by those who
      attended, among them the North Side leaders, and frequently the Klondike
      woman with her following. On several of these occasions, moreover, the
      latter brought as supper guests certain representatives of the theatrical
      profession, both male and female, she apparently having a wide
      acquaintance with such persons. That this sort of thing increased her
      unpopularity with the North Side set will be understood when I add that
      now and then her guests would be of undoubted respectability in their
      private lives, as theatrical persons often are, and such as our smartest
      hostesses would have been only too glad to entertain.
    </p>
    <p>
      To counteract this effect Belknap-Jackson now broached to me a plan of
      undoubted merit, which was nothing less than to hold an afternoon
      reception at his home in honour of the world&rsquo;s greatest pianoforte artist,
      who was presently to give a recital in Red Gap.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve not met the chap myself,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;but I knew his secretary and
      travelling companion quite well in a happier day in Boston. The recital
      here will be Saturday evening, which means that they will remain here on
      Sunday until the evening train East. I shall suggest to my friend that his
      employer, to while away the tedium of the Sunday, might care to look in
      upon me in the afternoon and meet a few of our best people. Nothing
      boring, of course. I&rsquo;ve no doubt he will arrange it. I&rsquo;ve written him to
      Portland, where they now are.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Rather a card that will be,&rdquo; I instantly cried. &ldquo;Rather better class than
      entertaining strolling players.&rdquo; Indeed the merit of the proposal rather
      overwhelmed me. It would be dignified and yet spectacular. It would show
      the Klondike woman that we chose to have contact only with artists of
      acknowledged preëminence and that such were quite willing to accept our
      courtesies. I had hopes, too, that the Honourable George might be aroused
      to advantages which he seemed bent upon casting to the American winds.
    </p>
    <p>
      A week later Belknap-Jackson joyously informed me that the great artist
      had consented to accept his hospitality. There would be light
      refreshments, with which I was charged. I suggested tea in the Russian
      manner, which he applauded.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And everything dainty in the way of food,&rdquo; he warned me. &ldquo;Nothing common,
      nothing heavy. Some of those tiny lettuce sandwiches, a bit of caviare,
      macaroons&mdash;nothing gross&mdash;a decanter of dry sherry, perhaps, a
      few of the lightest wafers; things that cultivated persons may trifle with&mdash;things
      not repugnant to the artist soul.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I promised my profoundest consideration to these matters.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And it occurs to me,&rdquo; he thoughtfully added, &ldquo;that this may be a time for
      Vane-Basingwell to silence the slurs upon himself that are becoming so
      common. I shall beg him to meet our guest at his hotel and escort him to
      my place. A note to my friend, &lsquo;the bearer, the Honourable George Augustus
      Vane-Basingwell, brother of his lordship the Earl of Brinstead, will take
      great pleasure in escorting to my home&mdash;&mdash;&rsquo; You get the idea?
      Not bad!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Again I applauded, resolving that for once the Honourable George would be
      suitably attired even if I had to bully him. And so was launched what
      promised to be Red Gap&rsquo;s most notable social event of the season. The
      Honourable George, being consulted, promised after a rather sulky
      hesitation to act as the great artist&rsquo;s escort, though he persisted in
      referring to him as &ldquo;that piano Johnny,&rdquo; and betrayed a suspicion that
      Belknap-Jackson was merely bent upon getting him to perform without price.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But no,&rdquo; cried Belknap-Jackson, &ldquo;I should never think of anything so
      indelicate as asking him to play. My own piano will be tightly closed and
      I dare say removed to another room.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      At this the Honourable George professed to wonder why the chap was desired
      if he wasn&rsquo;t to perform. &ldquo;All hair and bad English&mdash;silly brutes when
      they don&rsquo;t play,&rdquo; he declared. In the end, however, as I have said, he
      consented to act as he was wished to. Cousin Egbert, who was present at
      this interview, took somewhat the same view as the Honourable George, even
      asserting that he should not attend the recital.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He don&rsquo;t sing, he don&rsquo;t dance, he don&rsquo;t recite; just plays the piano.
      That ain&rsquo;t any kind of a show for folks to set up a whole evening for,&rdquo; he
      protested bitterly, and he went on to mention various theatrical pieces
      which he had considered worthy, among them I recall being one entitled
      &ldquo;The Two Johns,&rdquo; which he regretted not having witnessed for several
      years, and another called &ldquo;Ben Hur,&rdquo; which was better than all the piano
      players alive, he declared. But with the Honourable George enlisted, both
      Belknap-Jackson and I considered the opinions of Cousin Egbert to be quite
      wholly negligible.
    </p>
    <p>
      Saturday&rsquo;s <i>Recorder</i>, in its advance notice of the recital,
      announced that the Belknap-Jacksons of Boston and Red Gap would entertain
      the artist on the following afternoon at their palatial home in the
      Pettengill addition, where a select few of the North Side set had been
      invited to meet him. Belknap-Jackson himself was as a man uplifted. He
      constantly revised and re-revised his invitation list; he sought me out
      each day to suggest subtle changes in the very artistic menu I had
      prepared for the affair. His last touch was to supplement the decanter of
      sherry with a bottle of vodka. About the caviare he worried quite
      fearfully until it proved upon arrival to be fresh and of prime quality.
      My man, the Hobbs boy, had under my instructions pressed and smarted the
      Honourable George&rsquo;s suit for afternoon wear. The carriage was engaged.
      Saturday night it was tremendously certain that no hitch could occur to
      mar the affair. We had left no detail to chance.
    </p>
    <p>
      The recital itself was quite all that could have been expected, but
      underneath the enthusiastic applause there ran even a more intense fervour
      among those fortunate ones who were to meet the artist on the morrow.
    </p>
    <p>
      Belknap-Jackson knew himself to be a hero. He was elaborately cool. He
      smiled tolerantly at intervals and undoubtedly applauded with the least
      hint of languid proprietorship in his manner. He was heard to speak of the
      artist by his first name. The Klondike woman and many of her Bohemian set
      were prominently among those present and sustained glances of pitying
      triumph from those members of the North Side set so soon to be
      distinguished above her.
    </p>
    <p>
      The morrow dawned auspiciously, very cloudy with smartish drives of wind
      and rain. Confined to the dingy squalor of his hotel, how gladly would the
      artist, it was felt, seek the refined cheer of one of our best homes where
      he would be enlivened by an hour or so of contact with our most cultivated
      people. Belknap-Jackson telephoned me with increasing frequency as the
      hour drew near, nervously seeming to dread that I would have overlooked
      some detail of his refined refreshments, or that I would not have them at
      his house on time. He telephoned often to the Honourable George to be
      assured that the carriage with its escort would be prompt. He telephoned
      repeatedly to the driver chap, to impress upon him the importance of his
      mission.
    </p>
    <p>
      His guests began to arrive even before I had decked his sideboard with
      what was, I have no hesitation in declaring, the most superbly dainty
      buffet collation that Red Gap had ever beheld. The atmosphere at once
      became tense with expectation.
    </p>
    <p>
      At three o&rsquo;clock the host announced from the telephone: &ldquo;Vane-Basingwell
      has started from the Floud house.&rdquo; The guests thrilled and hushed the
      careless chatter of new arrivals. Belknap-Jackson remained heroically at
      the telephone, having demanded to be put through to the hotel. He was
      flushed with excitement. A score of minutes later he announced with an
      effort to control his voice: &ldquo;They have left the hotel&mdash;they are on
      the way.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The guests stiffened in their seats. Some of them nervously and for no
      apparent reason exchanged chairs with others. Some late arrivals bustled
      in and were immediately awed to the same electric silence of waiting.
      Belknap-Jackson placed the sherry decanter where the vodka bottle had been
      and the vodka bottle where the sherry decanter had been. &ldquo;The effect is
      better,&rdquo; he remarked, and went to stand where he could view the driveway.
      The moments passed.
    </p>
    <p>
      At such crises, which I need not say have been plentiful in my life, I
      have always known that I possessed an immense reserve of coolness. Seldom
      have I ever been so much as slightly flustered. Now I was calmness itself,
      and the knowledge brought me no little satisfaction as I noted the rather
      painful distraction of our host. The moments passed&mdash;long, heavy,
      silent moments. Our host ascended trippingly to an upper floor whence he
      could see farther down the drive. The guests held themselves in smiling
      readiness. Our host descended and again took up his post at a lower
      window.
    </p>
    <p>
      The moments passed&mdash;stilled, leaden moments. The silence had become
      intolerable. Our host jiggled on his feet. Some of the quicker-minded
      guests made a pretence of little conversational flurries: &ldquo;That second
      movement&mdash;oh, exquisitely rendered!... No one has ever read Chopin so
      divinely.... How his family must idolize him!... They say.... That
      exquisite concerto!... Hasn&rsquo;t he the most stunning hair.... Those staccato
      passages left me actually limp&mdash;I&rsquo;m starting Myrtle in Tuesday to
      take of Professor Gluckstein. She wants to take stenography, but I tell
      her.... Did you think the preludes were just the tiniest bit idealized....
      I always say if one has one&rsquo;s music, and one&rsquo;s books, of course&mdash;He
      must be very, <i>very</i> fond of music!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Such were the hushed, tentative fragments I caught.
    </p>
    <p>
      The moments passed. Belknap-Jackson went to the telephone. &ldquo;What? But
      they&rsquo;re not here! Very strange! They should have been here half an hour
      ago. Send some one&mdash;yes, at once.&rdquo; In the ensuing silence he repaired
      to the buffet and drank a glass of vodka. Quite distraught he was.
    </p>
    <p>
      The moments passed. Again several guests exchanged seats with other
      guests. It seemed to be a device for relieving the strain. Once more there
      were scattering efforts at normal talk. &ldquo;Myrtle is a strange girl&mdash;a
      creature of moods, I call her. She wanted to act in the moving pictures
      until papa bought the car. And she knows every one of the new tango steps,
      but I tell her a few lessons in cooking wouldn&rsquo;t&mdash;Beryl Mae is just
      the same puzzling child; one thing one day, and another thing the next; a
      mere bundle of nerves, and so sensitive if you say the least little thing
      to her ... If we could only get Ling Wong back&mdash;this Jap boy is
      always threatening to leave if the men don&rsquo;t get up to breakfast on time,
      or if Gertie makes fudge in his kitchen of an afternoon ... Our boy sends
      all his wages to his uncle in China, but I simply can&rsquo;t get him to say,
      &lsquo;Dinner is served.&rsquo; He just slides in and says, &lsquo;All right, you come!&rsquo; 
      It&rsquo;s very annoying, but I always tell the family, &lsquo;Remember what a time we
      had with the Swede&mdash;&mdash;&lsquo;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I mean to say, things were becoming rapidly impossible. The moments
      passed. Belknap-Jackson again telephoned: &ldquo;You did send a man after them?
      Send some one after him, then. Yes, at once!&rdquo; He poured himself another
      peg of the vodka. Silence fell again. The waiting was terrific. We had
      endured an hour of it, and but little more was possible to any sensitive
      human organism. All at once, as if the very last possible moment of
      silence had passed, the conversation broke loudly and generally: &ldquo;And did
      you notice that slimpsy thing she wore last night? Indecent, if you ask
      me, with not a petticoat under it, I&rsquo;ll be bound!... Always wears shoes
      twice too small for her ... What men can see in her ... How they can
      endure that perpetual smirk!...&rdquo; They were at last discussing the Klondike
      woman, and whatever had befallen our guest of honour I knew that those
      present would never regain their first awe of the occasion. It was now
      unrestrained gabble.
    </p>
    <p>
      The second hour passed quickly enough, the latter half of it being
      enlivened by the buffet collation which elicited many compliments upon my
      ingenuity and good taste. Quite almost every guest partook of a glass of
      the vodka. They chattered of everything but music, I dare say it being
      thought graceful to ignore the afternoon&rsquo;s disaster.
    </p>
    <p>
      Belknap-Jackson had sunk into a mood of sullen desperation. He drained the
      vodka bottle. Perhaps the liquor brought him something of the chill
      Russian fatalism. He was dignified but sodden, with a depression that
      seemed to blow from the bleak Siberian steppes. His wife was already
      receiving the adieus of their guests. She was smouldering ominously,
      uncertain where the blame lay, but certain there was blame. Criminal
      blame! I could read as much in her narrowed eyes as she tried for aplomb
      with her guests.
    </p>
    <p>
      My own leave I took unobtrusively. I knew our strangely missing guest was
      to depart by the six-two train, and I strolled toward the station. A block
      away I halted, waiting. It had been a time of waiting. The moments passed.
      I heard the whistle of the approaching train. At the same moment I was
      startled by the approach of a team that I took to be running away.
    </p>
    <p>
      I saw it was the carriage of the Pierce chap and that he was driving with
      the most abandoned recklessness. His passengers were the Honourable
      George, Cousin Egbert, and our missing guest. The great artist as they
      passed me seemed to feel a vast delight in his wild ride. He was cheering
      on the driver. He waved his arms and himself shouted to the maddened
      horses. The carriage drew up to the station with the train, and the three
      descended.
    </p>
    <p>
      The artist hurriedly shook hands in the warmest manner with his
      companions, including the Pierce chap, who had driven them. He beckoned to
      his secretary, who was waiting with his bags. He mounted the steps of the
      coach, and as the train pulled out he waved frantically to the three. He
      kissed his hand to them, looking far out as the train gathered momentum.
      Again and again he kissed his hand to the hat-waving trio.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was too much. The strain of the afternoon had told even upon my own
      iron nerves. I felt unequal at that moment to the simplest inquiry, and
      plainly the situation was not one to attack in haste. I mean to say, it
      was too pregnant with meaning. I withdrew rapidly from the scene, feeling
      the need for rest and silence.
    </p>
    <p>
      As I walked I meditated profoundly.
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER SIXTEEN
    </h2>
    <p>
      From the innocent lips of Cousin Egbert the following morning there fell a
      tale of such cold-blooded depravity that I found myself with difficulty
      giving it credit. At ten o&rsquo;clock, while I still mused pensively over the
      events of the previous day, he entered the Grill in search of breakfast,
      as had lately become his habit. I greeted him with perceptible restraint,
      not knowing what guilt might be his, but his manner to me was so
      unconsciously genial that I at once acquitted him of any complicity in
      whatever base doings had been forward.
    </p>
    <p>
      He took his accustomed seat with a pleasant word to me. I waited.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Feeling a mite off this morning,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;account of a lot of truck I
      eat yesterday. I guess I&rsquo;ll just take something kind of dainty. Tell
      Clarice to cook me up a nice little steak with plenty of fat on it, and
      some fried potatoes, and a cup of coffee and a few waffles to come. The
      Judge he wouldn&rsquo;t get up yet. He looked kind of mottled and anguished, but
      I guess he&rsquo;ll pull around all right. I had the chink take him up about a
      gallon of strong tea. Say, listen here, the Judge ain&rsquo;t so awful much of a
      stayer, is he?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Burning with curiosity I was to learn what he could tell me of the day
      before, yet I controlled myself to the calmest of leisurely questioning in
      order not to alarm him. It was too plain that he had no realization of
      what had occurred. It was always the way with him, I had noticed. Events
      the most momentous might culminate furiously about his head, but he never
      knew that anything had happened.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The Honourable George,&rdquo; I began, &ldquo;was with you yesterday? Perhaps he ate
      something he shouldn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He did, he did; he done it repeatedly. He et pretty near as much of that
      sauerkraut and frankfurters as the piano guy himself did, and that&rsquo;s some
      tribute, believe me, Bill! Some tribute!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The piano guy?&rdquo; I murmured quite casually.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And say, listen here, that guy is all right if anybody should ask you.
      You talk about your mixers!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      This was a bit puzzling, for of course I had never &ldquo;talked about my
      mixers.&rdquo; I shouldn&rsquo;t a bit know how to go on. I ventured another query.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Where was it this mixing and that sort of thing took place?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Why, up at Mis&rsquo; Kenner&rsquo;s, where we was having a little party:
      frankfurters and sauerkraut and beer. My stars! but that steak looks good.
      I&rsquo;m feeling better already.&rdquo; His food was before him, and he attacked it
      with no end of spirit.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Tell me quite all about it,&rdquo; I amiably suggested, and after a moment&rsquo;s
      hurried devotion to the steak, he slowed up a bit to talk.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, listen here, now. The Judge says to me when Eddie Pierce comes,
      &lsquo;Sour-dough,&rsquo; he says, &lsquo;look in at Mis&rsquo; Kenner&rsquo;s this afternoon if you got
      nothing else on; I fancy it will repay you.&rsquo; Just like that. &lsquo;Well,&rsquo; I
      says, &lsquo;all right, Judge, I fancy I will. I fancy I ain&rsquo;t got anything else
      on,&rsquo; I says. &lsquo;And I&rsquo;m always glad to go there,&rsquo; I says, because no matter
      what they&rsquo;re always saying about this here Bohemian stuff, Kate Kenner is
      one good scout, take it from me. So in a little while I slicked up some
      and went on around to her house. Then hitched outside I seen Eddie
      Pierce&rsquo;s hack, and I says, &lsquo;My lands! that&rsquo;s a funny thing,&rsquo; I says. &lsquo;I
      thought the Judge was going to haul this here piano guy out to the Jackson
      place where he could while away the tejum, like Jackson said, and now it
      looks as if they was here. Or mebbe it&rsquo;s just Eddie himself that has
      fancied to look in, not having anything else on.&rsquo; 
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, so anyway I go up on the stoop and knock, and when I get in the
      parlour there the piano guy is and the Judge and Eddie Pierce, too, Eddie
      helping the Jap around with frankfurters and sauerkraut and beer and one
      thing and another.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Besides them was about a dozen of Mis&rsquo; Kenner&rsquo;s own particular friends,
      all of &lsquo;em good scouts, let me tell you, and everybody laughing and
      gassing back and forth and cutting up and having a good time all around.
      Well, so as soon as they seen me, everybody says, &lsquo;Oh, here comes
      Sour-dough&mdash;good old Sour-dough!&rsquo; and all like that, and they
      introduced me to the piano guy, who gets up to shake hands with me and
      spills his beer off the chair arm on to the wife of Eddie Fosdick in the
      Farmers&rsquo; and Merchants&rsquo; National, and so I sat down and et with &lsquo;em and
      had a few steins of beer, and everybody had a good time all around.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The wonderful man appeared to believe that he had told me quite all of
      interest concerning this monstrous festivity. He surveyed the mutilated
      remnant of his steak and said: &ldquo;I guess Clarice might as well fry me a few
      eggs. I&rsquo;m feeling a lot better.&rdquo; I directed that this be done, musing upon
      the dreadful menu he had recited and recalling the exquisite finish of the
      collation I myself had prepared. Sausages, to be sure, have their place,
      and beer as well, but sauerkraut I have never been able to regard as an at
      all possible food for persons that really matter. Germans, to be sure!
    </p>
    <p>
      Discreetly I renewed my inquiry: &ldquo;I dare say the Honourable George was in
      good form?&rdquo; I suggested.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, he et a lot. Him and the piano guy was bragging which could eat the
      most sausages.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I was unable to restrain a shudder at the thought of this revolting
      contest.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The piano guy beat him out, though. He&rsquo;d been at the Palace Hotel for
      three meals and I guess his appetite was right craving.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And afterward?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, it was like Jackson said: this lad wanted to while away the tejum
      of a Sunday afternoon, and so he whiled it, that&rsquo;s all. Purty soon Mis&rsquo; 
      Kenner set down to the piano and sung some coon songs that tickled him
      most to death, and then she got to playing ragtime&mdash;say, believe me,
      Bill, when she starts in on that rag stuff she can make a piano simply
      stutter itself to death.
    </p>
    <p>
      {Illustration: MIS&rsquo; KENNER SET DOWN TO THE PIANO AND SUNG SOME COON SONGS
      THAT TICKLED HIM MOST TO DEATH}
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, at that the piano guy says it&rsquo;s great stuff, and so he sets down
      himself to try it, and he catches on pretty good, I&rsquo;ll say that for him,
      so we got to dancing while he plays for us, only he don&rsquo;t remember the
      tunes good and has to fake a lot. Then he makes Mis&rsquo; Kenner play again
      while he dances with Mis&rsquo; Fosdick that he spilled the beer on, and after
      that we had some more beer and this guy et another plate of kraut and a
      few sausages, and Mis&rsquo; Kenner sings &lsquo;The Robert E. Lee&rsquo; and a couple more
      good ones, and the guy played some more ragtime himself, trying to get the
      tunes right, and then he played some fancy pieces that he&rsquo;d practised up
      on, and we danced some and had a few more beers, with everybody laughing
      and cutting up and having a nice home afternoon.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, the piano guy enjoyed himself every minute, if anybody asks you,
      being lit up like a main chandelier. They made him feel like he was one of
      their own folks. You certainly got to hand it to him for being one little
      good mixer. Talk about whiling away the tejum! He done it, all right, all
      right. He whiled away so much tejum there he darned near missed his train.
      Eddie Pierce kept telling him what time it was, only he&rsquo;d keep asking Mis&rsquo; 
      Kenner to play just one more rag, and at last we had to just shoot him
      into his fur overcoat while he was kissing all the women on their hands,
      and we&rsquo;d have missed the train at that if Eddie hadn&rsquo;t poured the leather
      into them skates of his all the way down to the dee-po. He just did make
      it, and he told the Judge and Eddie and me that he ain&rsquo;t had such a good
      time since he left home. I kind of hated to see him go.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      He here attacked the eggs with what seemed to be a freshening of his
      remarkable appetite. And as yet, be it noted, I had detected no
      consciousness on his part that a foul betrayal of confidence had been
      committed. I approached the point.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The Belknap-Jacksons were rather expecting him, you know. My impression
      was that the Honourable George had been sent to escort him to the
      Belknap-Jackson house.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s what I thought, too, but I guess the Judge forgot it, or
      mebbe he thinks the guy will mix in better with Mis&rsquo; Kenner&rsquo;s crowd.
      Anyway, there they was, and it probably didn&rsquo;t make any difference to the
      guy himself. He likely thought he could while away the tejum there as well
      as he could while it any place, all of them being such good scouts. And
      the Judge has certainly got a case on Mis&rsquo; Kenner, so mebby she asked him
      to drop in with any friend of his. She&rsquo;s got him bridle-wise and broke to
      all gaits.&rdquo; He visibly groped for an illumining phrase. &ldquo;He&mdash;he just
      looks at her.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The simple words fell upon my ears with a sickening finality. &ldquo;He just
      looks at her.&rdquo; I had seen him &ldquo;just look&rdquo; at the typing-girl and at the
      Brixton milliner. All too fearfully I divined their preposterous
      significance. Beyond question a black infamy had been laid bare, but I
      made no effort to convey its magnitude to my guileless informant. As I
      left him he was mildly bemoaning his own lack of skill on the pianoforte.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Darned if I don&rsquo;t wish I&rsquo;d &lsquo;a&rsquo; took some lessons on the piano myself like
      that guy done. It certainly does help to while away the tejum when you got
      friends in for the afternoon. But then I was just a hill-billy. Likely I
      couldn&rsquo;t have learned the notes good.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      It was a half-hour later that I was called to the telephone to listen to
      the anguished accents of Belknap-Jackson.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Have you heard it?&rdquo; he called. I answered that I had.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The man is a paranoiac. He should be at once confined in an asylum for
      the criminal insane.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I shall row him fiercely about it, never fear. I&rsquo;ve not seen him yet.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But the creature should be watched. He may do harm to himself or to some
      innocent person. They&mdash;they run wild, they kill, they burn&mdash;set
      fire to buildings&mdash;that sort of thing. I tell you, none of us is
      safe.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The situation,&rdquo; I answered, &ldquo;has even more shocking possibilities, but
      I&rsquo;ve an idea I shall be equal to it. If the worst seems to be imminent I
      shall adopt extreme measures.&rdquo; I closed the interview. It was too painful.
      I wished to summon all my powers of deliberation.
    </p>
    <p>
      To my amazement who should presently appear among my throng of luncheon
      patrons but the Honourable George. I will not say that he slunk in, but
      there was an unaccustomed diffidence in his bearing. He did not meet my
      eye, and it was not difficult to perceive that he had no wish to engage my
      notice. As he sought a vacant table I observed that he was spotted quite
      profusely, and his luncheon order was of the simplest.
    </p>
    <p>
      Straight I went to him. He winced a bit, I thought, as he saw me approach,
      but then he apparently resolved to brass it out, for he glanced full at me
      with a terrific assumption of bravado and at once began to give me beans
      about my service.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Your bally tea shop running down, what! Louts for waiters, cloddish
      louts! Disgraceful, my word! Slow beggars! Take a year to do you a rasher
      and a bit of toast, what!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      To this absurd tirade I replied not a word, but stood silently regarding
      him. I dare say my gaze was of the most chilling character and steady. He
      endured it but a moment. His eyes fell, his bravado vanished, he fumbled
      with the cutlery. Quite abashed he was.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Come, your explanation!&rdquo; I said curtly, divining that the moment was one
      in which to adopt a tone with him. He wriggled a bit, crumpling a roll
      with panic fingers.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Come, come!&rdquo; I commanded.
    </p>
    <p>
      His face brightened, though with an intention most obviously false. He
      coughed&mdash;a cough of pure deception. Not only were his eyes averted
      from mine, but they were glassed to an uncanny degree. The fingers wrought
      piteously at the now plastic roll.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;My word, the chap was taken bad; had to be seen to, what! Revived, I mean
      to say. All piano Johnnies that way&mdash;nervous wrecks, what! Spells!
      Spells, man&mdash;spells!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Come, come!&rdquo; I said crisply. The glassed eyes were those of one
      hypnotized.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;In the carriage&mdash;to the hyphen chap&rsquo;s place, to be sure. Fainting
      spell&mdash;weak heart, what! No stimulants about. Passing house! Perhaps
      have stimulants&mdash;heart tablets, er&mdash;beer&mdash;things of that
      sort. Lead him in. Revive him. Quite well presently, but not well enough
      to go on. Couldn&rsquo;t let a piano Johnny die on our hands, what! Inquest,
      evidence, witnesses&mdash;all that silly rot. Save his life, what!
      Presence of mind! Kind hearts, what! Humanity! Do as much for any chap.
      Not let him die like a dog in the gutter, what! Get no credit, though&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
       His curiously mechanical utterance trailed off to be lost in a mere husky
      murmur. The glassy stare was still at my wall.
    </p>
    <p>
      I have in the course of my eventful career had occasion to mark the
      varying degrees of plausibility with which men speak untruths, but never,
      I confidently aver, have I beheld one lie with so piteous a futility. The
      art&mdash;and I dare say with diplomat chaps and that sort it may properly
      be called an art&mdash;demands as its very essence that the speaker seem
      to be himself convinced of the truth of that which he utters. And the
      Honourable George in his youth mentioned for the Foreign Office!
    </p>
    <p>
      I turned away. The exhibition was quite too indecent. I left him to mince
      at his meagre fare. As I glanced his way at odd moments thereafter, he
      would be muttering feverishly to himself. I mean to say, he no longer <i>was</i>
      himself. He presently made his way to the street, looking neither to right
      nor left. He had, in truth, the dazed manner of one stupefied by some
      powerful narcotic. I wondered pityingly when I should again behold him&mdash;if
      it might be that his poor wits were bedevilled past mending.
    </p>
    <p>
      My period of uncertainty was all too brief. Some two hours later, full
      into the tide of our afternoon shopping throng, there issued a spectacle
      that removed any lingering doubt of the unfortunate man&rsquo;s plight. In the
      rather smart pony-trap of the Klondike woman, driven by the person
      herself, rode the Honourable George. Full in the startled gaze of many of
      our best people he advertised his defection from all that makes for a
      sanely governed stability in our social organism. He had gone flagrantly
      over to the Bohemian set.
    </p>
    <p>
      I could detect that his eyes were still glassy, but his head was erect. He
      seemed to flaunt his shame. And the guilty partner of his downfall drove
      with an affectation of easy carelessness, yet with a lift of the chin
      which, though barely perceptible, had all the effect of binding the
      prisoner to her chariot wheels; a prisoner, moreover, whom it was plain
      she meant to parade to the last ignominious degree. She drove leisurely,
      and in the little infrequent curt turns of her head to address her
      companion she contrived to instill so finished an effect of boredom that
      she must have goaded to frenzy any matron of the North Side set who
      chanced to observe her, as more than one of them did.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thrice did she halt along our main thoroughfare for bits of shopping, a
      mere running into of shops or to the doors of them where she could issue
      verbal orders, the while she surveyed her waiting and drugged captive with
      a certain half-veiled but good-humoured insolence. At these moments&mdash;for
      I took pains to overlook the shocking scene&mdash;the Honourable George
      followed her with eyes no longer glassed; the eyes of helpless
      infatuation. &ldquo;He looks at her,&rdquo; Cousin Egbert had said. He had told it all
      and told it well. The equipage graced our street upon one paltry excuse or
      another for the better part of an hour, the woman being minded that none
      of us should longer question her supremacy over the next and eleventh Earl
      of Brinstead.
    </p>
    <p>
      Not for another hour did the effects of the sensation die out among
      tradesmen and the street crowds. It was like waves that recede but
      gradually. They talked. They stopped to talk. They passed on talking. They
      hissed vivaciously; they rose to exclamations. I mean to say, there was no
      end of a gabbling row about it.
    </p>
    <p>
      There was in my mind no longer any room for hesitation. The quite harshest
      of extreme measures must be at once adopted before all was too late. I
      made my way to the telegraph office. It was not a time for correspondence
      by post.
    </p>
    <p>
      Afterward I had myself put through by telephone to Belknap-Jackson. With
      his sensitive nature he had stopped in all day. Although still averse to
      appearing publicly, he now consented to meet me at my chambers late that
      evening.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The whole town is seething with indignation,&rdquo; he called to me. &ldquo;It was
      disgraceful. I shall come at ten. We rely upon you.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Again I saw that he was concerned solely with his humiliation as a
      would-be host. Not yet had he divined that the deluded Honourable George
      might go to the unspeakable length of a matrimonial alliance with the
      woman who had enchained him. And as to his own disaster, he was less than
      accurate when he said that the whole town was seething with indignation.
      The members of the North Side set, to be sure, were seething furiously,
      but a flippant element of the baser sort was quite openly rejoicing. As at
      the time of that most slanderous minstrel performance, it was said that
      the Bohemian set had again, if I have caught the phrase, &ldquo;put a thing over
      upon&rdquo; the North Side set. Many persons of low taste seemed quite to enjoy
      the dreadful affair, and the members of the Bohemian set, naturally,
      throughout the day had been quite coarsely beside themselves with glee.
    </p>
    <p>
      Little they knew, I reflected, what power I could wield nor that I had
      already set in motion its deadly springs. Little did the woman dream,
      flaunting her triumph up and down our main business thoroughfare, that one
      who watched her there had but to raise his hand to wrest the victim from
      her toils. Little did she now dream that he would stop at no half
      measures. I mean to say, she would never think I could bowl her out as
      easy as buying cockles off a barrow.
    </p>
    <p>
      At the hour for our conference Belknap-Jackson arrived at my chambers
      muffled in an ulster and with a soft hat well over his face. I gathered
      that he had not wished to be observed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I feel that this is a crisis,&rdquo; he began as he gloomily shook my hand.
      &ldquo;Where is our boasted twentieth-century culture if outrages like this are
      permitted? For the first time I understand how these Western communities
      have in the past resorted to mob violence. Public feeling is already
      running high against the creature and her unspeakable set.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I met this outburst with the serenity of one who holds the winning cards
      in his hand, and begged him to be seated. Thereupon I disclosed to him the
      weakly, susceptible nature of the Honourable George, reciting the
      incidents of the typing-girl and the Brixton milliner. I added that now,
      as before, I should not hesitate to preserve the family honour.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A dreadful thing, indeed,&rdquo; he murmured, &ldquo;if that adventuress should trap
      him into a marriage. Imagine her one day a Countess of Brinstead! But
      suppose the fellow prove stubborn; suppose his infatuation dulls all his
      finer instincts?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I explained that the Honourable George, while he might upon the spur of
      the moment commit a folly, was not to be taken too seriously; that he was,
      I believed, quite incapable of a grand passion. I mean to say, he always
      forgot them after a few days. More like a child staring into shop-windows
      he was, rapidly forgetting one desired object in the presence of others. I
      added that I had adopted the extremest measures.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thereupon, perceiving that I had something in my sleeve, as the saying is,
      my caller besought me to confide in him. Without a word I handed him a
      copy of my cable message sent that afternoon to his lordship:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
    <i>&ldquo;Your immediate presence required to prevent a monstrous
    folly.&rdquo;</i>
</pre>
    <p>
      He brightened as he read it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You actually mean to say&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; he began.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;His lordship,&rdquo; I explained, &ldquo;will at once understand the nature of what
      is threatened. He knows, moreover, that I would not alarm him without
      cause. He will come at once, and the Honourable George will be told what.
      His lordship has never failed. He tells him what perfectly, and that&rsquo;s
      quite all to it. The poor chap will be saved.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      My caller was profoundly stirred. &ldquo;Coming here&mdash;to Red Gap&mdash;his
      lordship the Earl of Brinstead&mdash;actually coming here! My God! This is
      wonderful!&rdquo; He paused; he seemed to moisten his dry lips; he began once
      more, and now his voice trembled with emotion: &ldquo;He will need a place to
      stay; our hotel is impossible; had you thought&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; He glanced
      at me appealingly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I dare say,&rdquo; I replied, &ldquo;that his lordship will be pleased to have you
      put him up; you would do him quite nicely.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You mean it&mdash;seriously? That would be&mdash;oh, inexpressible. He
      would be our house guest! The Earl of Brinstead! I fancy that would
      silence a few of these serpent tongues that are wagging so venomously
      to-day!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But before his coming,&rdquo; I insisted, &ldquo;there must be no word of his
      arrival. The Honourable George would know the meaning of it, and the
      woman, though I suspect now that she is only making a show of him, might
      go on to the bitter end. They must suspect nothing.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I had merely thought of a brief and dignified notice in our press,&rdquo; he
      began, quite wistfully, &ldquo;but if you think it might defeat our ends&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It must wait until he has come.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Glorious!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;It will be even more of a blow to them.&rdquo; He
      began to murmur as if reading from a journal, &ldquo;&lsquo;His lordship the Earl of
      Brinstead is visiting for a few days&rsquo;&mdash;it will surely be as much as a
      few days, perhaps a week or more&mdash;&lsquo;is visiting for a few days the C.
      Belknap-Jacksons of Boston and Red Gap.&rsquo;&rdquo; He seemed to regard the printed
      words. &ldquo;Better still, &lsquo;The C. Belknap-Jacksons of Boston and Red Gap are
      for a few days entertaining as their honoured house guest his lordship the
      Earl of Brinstead&mdash;&mdash;&rsquo; Yes, that&rsquo;s admirable.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      He arose and impulsively clasped my hand. &ldquo;Ruggles, dear old chap, I
      shan&rsquo;t know at all how to repay you. The Bohemian set, such as are
      possible, will be bound to come over to us. There will be left of it but
      one unprincipled woman&mdash;and she wretched and an outcast. She has made
      me absurd. I shall grind her under my heel. The east room shall be
      prepared for his lordship; he shall breakfast there if he wishes. I fancy
      he&rsquo;ll find us rather more like himself than he suspects. He shall see that
      we have ideals that are not half bad.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      He wrung my hand again. His eyes were misty with gratitude.
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
    </h2>
    <p>
      Three days later came the satisfying answer to my cable message:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
    <i>&ldquo;Damn! Sailing Wednesday</i>.&mdash;BRINSTEAD.&rdquo;
 </pre>
    <p>
      Glad I was he had used the cable. In a letter there would doubtless have
      been still other words improper to a peer of England.
    </p>
    <p>
      Belknap-Jackson thereafter bore himself with a dignity quite tremendous
      even for him. Graciously aloof, he was as one carrying an inner light. &ldquo;We
      hold them in the hollow of our hand,&rdquo; said he, and both his wife and
      himself took pains on our own thoroughfare to cut the Honourable George
      dead, though I dare say the poor chap never at all noticed it. They spoke
      of him as &ldquo;a remittance man&rdquo;&mdash;the black sheep of a noble family. They
      mentioned sympathetically the trouble his vicious ways had been to his
      brother, the Earl. Indeed, so mysteriously important were they in
      allusions of this sort that I was obliged to caution them, lest they let
      out the truth. As it was, there ran through the town an undercurrent of
      puzzled suspicion. It was intimated that we had something in our sleeves.
    </p>
    <p>
      Whether this tension was felt by the Honourable George, I had no means of
      knowing. I dare say not, as he is self-centred, being seldom aware of
      anything beyond his own immediate sensations. But I had reason to believe
      that the Klondike woman had divined some menace in our attitude of marked
      indifference. Her own manner, when it could be observed, grew increasingly
      defiant, if that were possible. The alliance of the Honourable George with
      the Bohemian set had become, of course, a public scandal after the day of
      his appearance in her trap and after his betrayal of the Belknap-Jacksons
      had been gossiped to rags. He no longer troubled himself to pretend any
      esteem whatever for the North Side set. Scarce a day passed but he
      appeared in public as the woman&rsquo;s escort. He flagrantly performed her
      commissions, and at their questionable Bohemian gatherings, with their
      beer and sausages and that sort of thing, he was the gayest of that gay,
      mad set.
    </p>
    <p>
      Indeed, of his old associates, Cousin Egbert quite almost alone seemed to
      find him any longer desirable, and him I had no heart to caution, knowing
      that I should only wound without enlightening him, he being entirely
      impervious to even these cruder aspects of class distinction. I dare say
      he would have considered the marriage of the Honourable George as no more
      than the marriage of one of his cattle-person companions. I mean to say,
      he is a dear old sort and I should never fail to defend him in the most
      disheartening of his vagaries, but he is undeniably insensitive to what
      one does and does not do.
    </p>
    <p>
      The conviction ran, let me repeat, that we had another pot of broth on the
      fire. I gleaned as much from the Mixer, she being one of the few others
      besides Cousin Egbert in whose liking the Honourable George had not
      terrifically descended. She made it a point to address me on the subject
      over a dish of tea at the Grill one afternoon, choosing a table
      sufficiently remote from my other feminine guests, who doubtless, at their
      own tables, discussed the same complication. I was indeed glad that we
      were remote from other occupied tables, because in the course of her
      remarks she quite forcefully uttered an oath, which I thought it as well
      not to have known that I cared to tolerate in my lady patrons.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;As to what Jackson feels about the way it was handed out to him that
      Sunday,&rdquo; she bluntly declared, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care a&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; The oath
      quite dazed me for a moment, although I had been warned that she would use
      language on occasion. &ldquo;What I do care about,&rdquo; she went on briskly, &ldquo;is
      that I won&rsquo;t have this girl pestered by Jackson or by you or by any man
      that wears hair! Why, Jackson talks so silly about her sometimes you&rsquo;d
      think she was a bad woman&mdash;and he keeps hinting about something he&rsquo;s
      going to put over till I can hardly keep my hands off him. I just know
      some day he&rsquo;ll make me forget I&rsquo;m a lady. Now, take it from me, Bill, if
      you&rsquo;re setting in with him, don&rsquo;t start anything you can&rsquo;t finish.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Really she was quite fierce about it. I mean to say, the glitter in her
      eyes made me recall what Cousin Egbert had said of Mrs. Effie, her being
      quite entirely willing to take on a rattlesnake and give it the advantage
      of the first two assaults. Somewhat flustered I was, yet I hastened to
      assure her that, whatever steps I might feel obliged to take for the
      protection of the Honourable George, they would involve nothing at all
      unfair to the lady in question.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, they better hadn&rsquo;t!&rdquo; she resumed threateningly. &ldquo;That girl had a
      hard time all right, but listen here&mdash;she&rsquo;s as right as a church. She
      couldn&rsquo;t fool me a minute if she wasn&rsquo;t. Don&rsquo;t you suppose I been around
      and around quite some? Just because she likes to have a good time and
      outdresses these dames here&mdash;is that any reason they should get out
      their hammers? Ain&rsquo;t she earned some right to a good time, tell me, after
      being married when she was a silly kid to Two-spot Kenner, the swine&mdash;and
      God bless the trigger finger of the man that bumped him off! As for the
      poor old Judge, don&rsquo;t worry. I like the old boy, but Kate Kenner won&rsquo;t do
      anything more than make a monkey of him just to spite Jackson and his band
      of lady knockers. Marry him? Say, get me right, Bill&mdash;I&rsquo;ll put it as
      delicate as I can&mdash;the Judge is too darned far from being a mental
      giant for that.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I dare say she would have slanged me for another half-hour but for the
      constant strain of keeping her voice down. As it was, she boomed up now
      and again in a way that reduced to listening silence the ladies at several
      distant tables.
    </p>
    <p>
      As to the various points she had raised, I was somewhat confused. About
      the Honourable George, for example: He was, to be sure, no mental giant.
      But one occupying his position is not required to be. Indeed, in the class
      to which he was born one well knows that a mental giant would be quite as
      distressingly bizarre as any other freak. I regretted not having retorted
      this to her, for it now occurred to me that she had gone it rather strong
      with her &ldquo;poor old Judge.&rdquo; I mean to say, it was almost quite a little bit
      raw for a native American to adopt this patronizing tone toward one of us.
    </p>
    <p>
      And yet I found that my esteem for the Mixer had increased rather than
      diminished by reason of her plucky defence of the Klondike woman. I had no
      reason to suppose that the designing creature was worth a defence, but I
      could only admire the valour that made it. Also I found food for profound
      meditation in the Mixer&rsquo;s assertion that the woman&rsquo;s sole aim was to &ldquo;make
      a monkey&rdquo; of the Honourable George. If she were right, a mésalliance need
      not be feared, at which thought I felt a great relief. That she should
      achieve the lesser and perhaps equally easy feat with the poor chap was a
      calamity that would be, I fancied, endured by his lordship with a serene
      fortitude.
    </p>
    <p>
      Curiously enough, as I went over the Mixer&rsquo;s tirade point by point, I
      found in myself an inexplicable loss of animus toward the Klondike woman.
      I will not say I was moved to sympathy for her, but doubtless that strange
      ferment of equality stirred me toward her with something less than the
      indignation I had formerly felt. Perhaps she was an entirely worthy
      creature. In that case, I merely wished her to be taught that one must not
      look too far above one&rsquo;s station, even in America, in so serious an affair
      as matrimony. With all my heart I should wish her a worthy mate of her own
      class, and I was glad indeed to reflect upon the truth of my assertion to
      the Mixer, that no unfair advantage would be taken of her. His lordship
      would remove the Honourable George from her toils, a made monkey, perhaps,
      but no husband.
    </p>
    <p>
      Again that day did I listen to a defence of this woman, and from a source
      whence I could little have expected it. Meditating upon the matter, I
      found myself staring at Mrs. Judson as she polished some glassware in the
      pantry. As always, the worthy woman made a pleasing picture in her neat
      print gown. From staring at her rather absently I caught myself reflecting
      that she was one of the few women whose hair is always perfectly coiffed.
      I mean to say, no matter what the press of her occupation, it never goes
      here and there.
    </p>
    <p>
      From the hair, my meditative eye, still rather absently, I believe,
      descended her quite good figure to her boots. Thereupon, my gaze ceased to
      be absent. They were not boots. They were bronzed slippers with high heels
      and metal buckles and of a character so distinctive that I instantly knew
      they had once before been impressed upon my vision. Swiftly my mind
      identified them: they had been worn by the Klondike woman on the occasion
      of a dinner at the Grill, in conjunction with a gown to match and a bluish
      scarf&mdash;all combining to achieve an immense effect.
    </p>
    <p>
      My assistant hummed at her task, unconscious of my scrutiny. I recall that
      I coughed slightly before disclosing to her that my attention had been
      attracted to her slippers. She took the reference lightly, affecting, as
      the sex will, to belittle any prized possession in the face of masculine
      praise.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I have seen them before,&rdquo; I ventured.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;She gives me all of hers. I haven&rsquo;t had to buy shoes since baby was born.
      She gives me&mdash;lots of things&mdash;stockings and things. She likes me
      to have them.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t know you knew her.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Years! I&rsquo;m there once a week to give the house a good going over. That
      Jap of hers is the limit. Dust till you can&rsquo;t rest. And when I clean he
      just grins.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I mused upon this. The woman was already giving half her time to
      superintending two assistants in the preparation of the International
      Relish.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Her work is too much in addition to your own,&rdquo; I suggested.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Me? Work too hard? Not in a thousand years. I do all right for you, don&rsquo;t
      I?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      It was true; she was anything but a slacker. I more nearly approached my
      real objection.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A woman in your position,&rdquo; I began, &ldquo;can&rsquo;t be too careful as to the
      associations she forms&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; I had meant to go on, but found it
      quite absurdly impossible. My assistant set down the glass she had and
      quite venomously brandished her towel at me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;So that&rsquo;s it?&rdquo; she began, and almost could get no farther for mere
      sputtering. I mean to say, I had long recognized that she possessed
      character, but never had I suspected that she would have so inadequate a
      control of her temper.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;So that&rsquo;s it?&rdquo; she sputtered again, &ldquo;And I thought you were too decent to
      join in that talk about a woman just because she&rsquo;s young and wears pretty
      clothes and likes to go out. I&rsquo;m astonished at you, I really am. I thought
      you were more of a man!&rdquo; She broke off, scowling at me most furiously.
    </p>
    <p>
      Feeling all at once rather a fool, I sought to conciliate her. &ldquo;I have
      joined in no talk,&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;I merely suggested&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; But she
      shut me off sharply.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And let me tell you one thing: I can pick out my associates in this town
      without any outside help. The idea! That girl is just as nice a person as
      ever walked the earth, and nobody ever said she wasn&rsquo;t except those frumpy
      old cats that hate her good looks because the men all like her.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Old cats!&rdquo; I echoed, wishing to rebuke this violence of epithet, but she
      would have none of me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Nasty old spite-cats,&rdquo; she insisted with even more violence, and went on
      to an almost quite blasphemous absurdity. &ldquo;A prince in his palace wouldn&rsquo;t
      be any too good for her!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Tut, tut!&rdquo; I said, greatly shocked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Tut nothing!&rdquo; she retorted fiercely. &ldquo;A regular prince in his palace,
      that&rsquo;s what she deserves. There isn&rsquo;t a single man in this one-horse town
      that&rsquo;s good enough to pick up her glove. And she knows it, too. She&rsquo;s
      carrying on with your silly Englishman now, but it&rsquo;s just to pay those old
      cats back in their own coin. She&rsquo;ll carry on with him&mdash;yes! But
      marry? Good heavens and earth! Marriage is serious!&rdquo; With this novel
      conclusion she seized another glass and began to wipe it viciously. She
      glared at me, seeming to believe that she had closed the interview. But I
      couldn&rsquo;t stop. In some curious way she had stirred me rather out of myself&mdash;but
      not about the Klondike woman nor about the Honourable George. I began most
      illogically, I admit, to rage inwardly about another matter.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You have other associates,&rdquo; I exclaimed quite violently, &ldquo;those
      cattle-persons&mdash;I know quite all about it. That Hank and Buck&mdash;they
      come here on the chance of seeing you; they bring you boxes of candy, they
      bring you little presents. Twice they&rsquo;ve escorted you home at night when
      you quite well knew I was only too glad to do it&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; I felt my
      temper most curiously running away with me, ranting about things I hadn&rsquo;t
      meant to at all. I looked for another outburst from her, but to my
      amazement she flashed me a smile with a most enigmatic look back of it.
      She tossed her head, but resumed her wiping of the glass with a certain
      demureness. She spoke almost meekly:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;They&rsquo;re very old friends, and I&rsquo;m sure they always act right. I don&rsquo;t see
      anything wrong in it, even if Buck Edwards has shown me a good deal of
      attention.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      But this very meekness of hers seemed to arouse all the violence in my
      nature.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t have it!&rdquo; I said. &ldquo;You have no right to receive presents from
      men. I tell you I won&rsquo;t have it! You&rsquo;ve no right!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t I?&rdquo; she suddenly said in the most curious, cool little voice, her
      eyes falling before mine. &ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t I? I didn&rsquo;t know.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      It was quite chilling, her tone and manner. I was cool in an instant.
      Things seemed to mean so much more than I had supposed they did. I mean to
      say, it was a fair crumpler. She paused in her wiping of the glass but did
      not regard me. I was horribly moved to go to her, but coolly remembered
      that that sort of thing would never do.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I trust I have said enough,&rdquo; I remarked with entirely recovered dignity.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You have,&rdquo; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I mean I won&rsquo;t have such things,&rdquo; I said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I hear you,&rdquo; she said, and fell again to her work. I thereupon
      investigated an ice-box and found enough matter for complaint against the
      Hobbs boy to enable me to manage a dignified withdrawal to the rear. The
      remarkable creature was humming again as I left.
    </p>
    <p>
      I stood in the back door of the Grill giving upon the alley, where I mused
      rather excitedly. Here I was presently interrupted by the dog, Mr. Barker.
      For weeks now I had been relieved of his odious attentions, by the very
      curious circumstance that he had transferred them to the Honourable
      George. Not all my kicks and cuffs and beatings had sufficed one whit to
      repulse him. He had kept after me, fawned upon me, in spite of them. And
      then on a day he had suddenly, with glad cries, become enamoured of the
      Honourable George, waiting for him at doors, following him, hanging upon
      his every look. And the Honourable George had rather fancied the beast and
      made much of him.
    </p>
    <p>
      And yet this animal is reputed by poets and that sort of thing to be man&rsquo;s
      best friend, faithfully sharing his good fortune and his bad, staying by
      his side to the bitter end, even refusing to leave his body when he has
      perished&mdash;starving there with a dauntless fidelity. How chagrined the
      weavers of these tributes would have been to observe the fickle nature of
      the beast in question! For weeks he had hardly deigned me a glance. It had
      been a relief, to be sure, but what a sickening disclosure of the cur&rsquo;s
      trifling inconstancy. Even now, though he sniffed hungrily at the open
      door, he paid me not the least attention&mdash;me whom he had once
      idolized!
    </p>
    <p>
      I slipped back to the ice-box and procured some slices of beef that were
      far too good for him. He fell to them with only a perfunctory
      acknowledgment of my agency in procuring them.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Why, I thought you hated him!&rdquo; suddenly said the voice of his owner. She
      had tiptoed to my side.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I do,&rdquo; I said quite savagely, &ldquo;but the unspeakable beast can&rsquo;t be left to
      starve, can he?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I felt her eyes upon me, but would not turn. Suddenly she put her hand
      upon my shoulder, patting it rather curiously, as she might have soothed
      her child. When I did turn she was back at her task. She was humming
      again, nor did she glance my way. Quite certainly she was no longer
      conscious that I stood about. She had quite forgotten me. I could tell as
      much from her manner. &ldquo;Such,&rdquo; I reflected, with an unaccustomed cynicism,
      &ldquo;is the light inconsequence of women and dogs.&rdquo; Yet I still experienced a
      curiously thrilling determination to protect her from her own good nature
      in the matter of her associates.
    </p>
    <p>
      At a later and cooler moment of the day I reflected upon her defence of
      the Klondike woman. A &ldquo;prince in his palace&rdquo; not too good for her! No
      doubt she had meant me to take these remarkable words quite seriously. It
      was amazing, I thought, with what seriousness the lower classes of the
      country took their dogma of equality, and with what naïve confidence they
      relied upon us to accept it. Equality in North America was indeed
      praiseworthy; I had already given it the full weight of my approval and
      meant to live by it. But at home, of course, that sort of thing would
      never do. The crude moral worth of the Klondike woman might be all that
      her two defenders had alleged, and indeed I felt again that strange little
      thrill of almost sympathy for her as one who had been unjustly aspersed.
      But I could only resolve that I would be no party to any unfair plan of
      opposing her. The Honourable George must be saved from her trifling as
      well as from her serious designs, if such she might have; but so far as I
      could influence the process it should cause as little chagrin as possible
      to the offender. This much the Mixer and my charwoman had achieved with
      me. Indeed, quite hopeful I was that when the creature had been set right
      as to what was due one of our oldest and proudest families she would find
      life entirely pleasant among those of her own station. She seemed to have
      a good heart.
    </p>
    <p>
      As the day of his lordship&rsquo;s arrival drew near, Belknap-Jackson became
      increasingly concerned about the precise manner of his reception and the
      details of his entertainment, despite my best assurances that no
      especially profound thought need be given to either, his lordship being
      quite that sort, fussy enough in his own way but hardly formal or
      pretentious.
    </p>
    <p>
      His prospective host, after many consultations with me, at length allowed
      himself to be dissuaded from meeting his lordship in correct afternoon
      garb of frock-coat and top-hat, consenting, at my urgent suggestion, to a
      mere lounge-suit of tweeds with a soft-rolled hat and a suitable rough day
      stick. Again in the matter of the menu for his lordship&rsquo;s initial dinner
      which we had determined might well be tendered him at my establishment.
      Both husband and wife were rather keen for an elaborate repast of many
      courses, feeling that anything less would be doing insufficient honour to
      their illustrious guest, but I at length convinced them that I quite knew
      what his lordship would prefer: a vegetable soup, an abundance of boiled
      mutton with potatoes, a thick pudding, a bit of scientifically correct
      cheese, and a jug of beer. Rather trying they were at my first mention of
      this&mdash;a dinner quite without finesse, to be sure, but eminently
      nutritive&mdash;and only their certainty that I knew his lordship&rsquo;s ways
      made them give in.
    </p>
    <p>
      The affair was to be confined to the family, his lordship the only guest,
      this being thought discreet for the night of his arrival in view of the
      peculiar nature of his mission. Belknap-Jackson had hoped against hope
      that the Mixer might not be present, and even so late as the day of his
      lordship&rsquo;s arrival he was cheered by word that she might be compelled to
      keep her bed with a neuralgia.
    </p>
    <p>
      To the afternoon train I accompanied him in his new motor-car, finding him
      not a little distressed because the chauffeur, a native of the town, had
      stoutly&mdash;and with some not nice words, I gathered&mdash;refused to
      wear the smart uniform which his employer had provided.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I would have shopped the fellow in an instant,&rdquo; he confided to me, &ldquo;had
      it been at any other time. He was most impertinent. But as usual, here I
      am at the mercy of circumstances. We couldn&rsquo;t well subject Brinstead to
      those loathsome public conveyances.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      We waited in the usual throng of the leisured lower-classes who are so
      naïvely pleased at the passage of a train. I found myself picturing their
      childish wonder had they guessed the identity of him we were there to
      meet. Even as the train appeared Belknap-Jackson made a last moan of
      complaint.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Mrs. Pettengill,&rdquo; he observed dejectedly, &ldquo;is about the house again and I
      fear will be quite well enough to be with us this evening.&rdquo; For a moment I
      almost quite disapproved of the fellow. I mean to say, he was vogue and
      all that, and no doubt had been wretchedly mistreated, but after all the
      Mixer was not one to be wished ill to.
    </p>
    <p>
      A moment later I was contrasting the quiet arrival of his lordship with
      the clamour and confusion that had marked the advent among us of the
      Honourable George. He carried but one bag and attracted no attention
      whatever from the station loungers. While I have never known him be
      entirely vogue in his appointments, his lordship carries off a lounge-suit
      and his gray-cloth hat with a certain manner which the Honourable George
      was never known to achieve even in the days when I groomed him. The
      grayish rather aggressive looking side-whiskers first caught my eye, and a
      moment later I had taken his hand. Belknap-Jackson at the same time took
      his bag, and with a trepidation so obvious that his lordship may perhaps
      have been excusable for a momentary misapprehension. I mean to say, he
      instantly and crisply directed Belknap-Jackson to go forward to the
      luggage van and recover his box.
    </p>
    <p>
      A bit awkward it was, to be sure, but I speedily took the situation in
      hand by formally presenting the two men, covering the palpable
      embarrassment of the host by explaining to his lordship the astounding
      ingenuity of the American luggage system. By the time I had deprived him
      of his check and convinced him that his box would be admirably recovered
      by a person delegated to that service, Belknap-Jackson, again in form, was
      apologizing to him for the squalid character of the station and for the
      hardships he must be prepared to endure in a crude Western village. Here
      again the host was annoyed by having to call repeatedly to his mechanician
      in order to detach him from a gossiping group of loungers. He came smoking
      a quite fearfully bad cigar and took his place at the wheel entirely
      without any suitable deference to his employer.
    </p>
    <p>
      His lordship during the ride rather pointedly surveyed me, being
      impressed, I dare say, by something in my appearance and manner quite new
      to him. Doubtless I had been feeling equal for so long that the thing was
      to be noticed in my manner. He made no comment upon me, however. Indeed
      almost the only time he spoke during our passage was to voice his
      astonishment at not having been able to procure the London <i>Times</i> at
      the press-stalls along the way. His host made clucking noises of sympathy
      at this. He had, he said, already warned his lordship that America was
      still crude.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Crude? Of course, what, what!&rdquo; exclaimed his lordship. &ldquo;But naturally
      they&rsquo;d have the <i>Times</i>! I dare say the beggars were too lazy to look
      it out. Laziness, what, what!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve a job teaching them to know their places,&rdquo; ventured
      Belknap-Jackson, moodily regarding the back of his chauffeur which somehow
      contrived to be eloquent with disrespect for him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;My word, what rot!&rdquo; rejoined his lordship. I saw that he had arrived in
      one of his peppery moods. I fancy he could not have recited a
      multiplication table without becoming fanatically assertive about it. That
      was his way. I doubt if he had ever condescended to have an opinion. What
      might have been opinions came out on him like a rash in form of the most
      violent convictions.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What rot not to know their places, when they must know them!&rdquo; he
      snappishly added.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Quite so, quite so!&rdquo; his host hastened to assure him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A&mdash;dashed&mdash;fine big country you have,&rdquo; was his only other
      observation.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Indeed, indeed,&rdquo; murmured his host mildly. I had rather dreaded the oath
      which his lordship is prone to use lightly.
    </p>
    <p>
      Reaching the Belknap-Jackson house, his lordship was shown to the
      apartment prepared for him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Tea will be served in half an hour, your&mdash;er&mdash;Brinstead,&rdquo;
       announced his host cordially, although seemingly at a loss how to address
      him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Quite so, what, what! Tea, of course, of course! Why wouldn&rsquo;t it be?
      Meantime, if you don&rsquo;t mind, I&rsquo;ll have a word with Ruggles. At once.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Belknap-Jackson softly and politely withdrew at once.
    </p>
    <p>
      Alone with his lordship, I thought it best to acquaint him instantly with
      the change in my circumstances, touching lightly upon the matter of my now
      being an equal with rather most of the North Americans. He listened with
      exemplary patience to my brief recital and was good enough to felicitate
      me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Assure you, glad to hear it&mdash;glad no end. Worthy fellow; always knew
      it. And equal, of course, of course! Take up their equality by all means
      if you take &lsquo;em up themselves. Curious lot of nose-talking beggars, and
      putting r&rsquo;s every place one shouldn&rsquo;t, but don&rsquo;t blame you. Do it myself
      if I could&mdash;England gone to pot. Quite!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Gone to pot, sir?&rdquo; I gasped.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t argue. Course it has. Women! Slasher fiends and firebrands!
      Pictures, churches, golf-greens, cabinet members&mdash;nothing safe.
      Pouring their beastly filth into pillar boxes. Women one knows. Hussies,
      though! Want the vote&mdash;rot! Awful rot! Don&rsquo;t blame you for America.
      Wish I might, too. Good thing, my word! No backbone in Downing Street. Let
      the fiends out again directly they&rsquo;re hungry. No system! No firmness! No
      dash! Starve &lsquo;em proper, I would.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      He was working himself into no end of a state. I sought to divert him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;About the Honourable George, sir&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; I ventured.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the silly ass up to now? Dancing girl got him&mdash;yes? How he
      does it, I can&rsquo;t think. No looks, no manner, no way with women. Can&rsquo;t
      stand him myself. How ever can they? Frightful bore, old George is. Well,
      well, man, I&rsquo;m waiting. Tell me, tell me, tell me!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Briefly I disclosed to him that his brother had entangled himself with a
      young person who had indeed been a dancing girl or a bit like that in the
      province of Alaska. That at the time of my cable there was strong reason
      to believe she would stop at nothing&mdash;even marriage, but that I had
      since come to suspect that she might be bent only on making a fool of her
      victim, she being, although an honest enough character, rather inclined to
      levity and without proper respect for established families.
    </p>
    <p>
      I hinted briefly at the social warfare of which she had been a storm
      centre. I said again, remembering the warm words of the Mixer and of my
      charwoman, that to the best of my knowledge her character was without
      blemish. All at once I was feeling preposterously sorry for the creature.
    </p>
    <p>
      His lordship listened, though with a cross-fire of interruptions. &ldquo;Alaska
      dancing girl. Silly! Nothing but snow and mines in Alaska.&rdquo; Or, again,
      &ldquo;Make a fool of old George? What silly piffle! Already done it himself,
      what, what! Waste her time!&rdquo; And if she wasn&rsquo;t keen to marry him, had I
      called him across the ocean to intervene in a vulgar village squabble
      about social precedence? &ldquo;Social precedence silly rot!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I insisted that his brother should be seen to. One couldn&rsquo;t tell what the
      woman might do. Her audacity was tremendous, even for an American. To this
      he listened more patiently.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Dare say you&rsquo;re right. You don&rsquo;t go off your head easily. I&rsquo;ll rag him
      proper, now I&rsquo;m here. Always knew the ass would make a silly marriage if
      he could. Yes, yes, I&rsquo;ll break it up quick enough. I say I&rsquo;ll break it up
      proper. Dancers and that sort. Dangerous. But I know their tricks.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      A summons to tea below interrupted him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Hungry, my word! Hardly dared eat in that dining-coach. Tinned stuff all
      about one. Appendicitis! American journal&mdash;some Colonel chap found it
      out. Hunting sort. Looked a fool beside his silly horse, but seemed to
      know. Took no chances. Said the tin-opener slays its thousands. Rot, no
      doubt. Perhaps not.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I led him below, hardly daring at the moment to confess my own
      responsibility for his fears. Another time, I thought, we might chat of
      it.
    </p>
    <p>
      Belknap-Jackson with his wife and the Mixer awaited us. His lordship was
      presented, and I excused myself.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Mrs. Pettengill, his lordship the Earl of Brinstead,&rdquo; had been the host&rsquo;s
      speech of presentation to the Mixer.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;How do do, Earl; I&rsquo;m right glad to meet you,&rdquo; had been the Mixer&rsquo;s
      acknowledgment, together with a hearty grasp of the hand. I saw his
      lordship&rsquo;s face brighten.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What ho!&rdquo; he cried with the first cheerfulness he had exhibited, and the
      Mixer, still vigorously pumping his hand, had replied, &ldquo;Same here!&rdquo; with a
      vast smile of good nature. It occurred to me that they, at least, were
      quite going to &ldquo;get&rdquo; each other, as Americans say.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Come right in and set down in the parlour,&rdquo; she was saying at the last.
      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t eat between meals like you English folks are always doing, but
      I&rsquo;ll take a shot of hooch with you.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The Belknap-Jacksons stood back not a little distressed. They seemed to
      publish that their guest was being torn from them.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A shot of hooch!&rdquo; observed his lordship &ldquo;I dare say your shooting over
      here is absolutely top-hole&mdash;keener sport than our popping at driven
      birds. What, what!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
    </h2>
    <p>
      At a latish seven, when the Grill had become nicely filled with a
      representative crowd, the Belknap-Jacksons arrived with his lordship. The
      latter had not dressed and I was able to detect that Belknap-Jackson,
      doubtless noting his guest&rsquo;s attire at the last moment, had hastily
      changed back to a lounge-suit of his own. Also I noted the absence of the
      Mixer and wondered how the host had contrived to eliminate her. On this
      point he found an opportunity to enlighten me before taking his seat.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Mark my words, that old devil is up to something,&rdquo; he darkly said, and I
      saw that he was genuinely put about, for not often does he fall into
      strong language.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;After pushing herself forward with his lordship all through tea-time in
      the most brazen manner, she announces that she has a previous dinner
      engagement and can&rsquo;t be with us. I&rsquo;m as well pleased to have her absent,
      of course, but I&rsquo;d pay handsomely to know what her little game is. Imagine
      her not dining with the Earl of Brinstead when she had the chance! That
      shows something&rsquo;s wrong. I don&rsquo;t like it. I tell you she&rsquo;s capable of
      things.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I mused upon this. The Mixer was undoubtedly capable of things. Especially
      things concerning her son-in-law. And yet I could imagine no opening for
      her at the present moment and said as much. And Mrs. Belknap-Jackson, I
      was glad to observe, did not share her husband&rsquo;s evident worry. She had
      entered the place plumingly, as it were, sweeping the length of the room
      before his lordship with quite all the manner her somewhat stubby figure
      could carry off. Seated, she became at once vivacious, chatting to his
      lordship brightly and continuously, raking the room the while with her
      lorgnon. Half a dozen ladies of the North Side set were with parties at
      other tables. I saw she was immensely stimulated by the circumstance that
      these friends were unaware of her guest&rsquo;s identity. I divined that before
      the evening was over she would contrive to disclose it.
    </p>
    <p>
      His lordship responded but dully to her animated chat. He is never less
      urbane than when hungry, and I took pains to have his favourite soup
      served quite almost at once. This he fell upon. I may say that he has
      always a hearty manner of attacking his soup. Not infrequently he makes
      noises. He did so on this occasion. I mean to say, there was no finesse. I
      hovered near, anxious that the service should be without flaw.
    </p>
    <p>
      His head bent slightly over his plate, I saw a spoonful of soup ascending
      with precision toward his lips. But curiously it halted in mid-air, then
      fell back. His lordship&rsquo;s eyes had become fixed upon some one back of me.
      At once, too, I noted looks of consternation upon the faces of the
      Belknap-Jacksons, the hostess freezing in the very midst of some choice
      phrase she had smilingly begun.
    </p>
    <p>
      I turned quickly. It was the Klondike person, radiant in the costume of
      black and the black hat. She moved down the hushed room with well-lifted
      chin, eyes straight ahead and narrowed to but a faint offended
      consciousness of the staring crowd. It was well done. It was superior. I
      am able to judge those things.
    </p>
    <p>
      Reaching a table the second but one from the Belknap-Jacksons&rsquo;s, she
      relaxed finely from the austere note of her progress and turned to her
      companions with a pretty and quite perfect confusion as to which chair she
      might occupy. Quite awfully these companions were the Mixer, overwhelming
      in black velvet and diamonds, and Cousin Egbert, uncomfortable enough
      looking but as correctly enveloped in evening dress as he could ever
      manage by himself. His cravat had been tied many times and needed it once
      more.
    </p>
    <p>
      They were seated by the raccoon with quite all his impressiveness of
      manner. They faced the Belknap-Jackson party, yet seemed unconscious of
      its presence. Cousin Egbert, with a bored manner which I am certain he
      achieved only with tremendous effort, scanned my simple menu. The Mixer
      settled herself with a vast air of comfort and arranged various
      hand-belongings about her on the table.
    </p>
    <p>
      Between them the Klondike woman sat with a restraint that would actually
      not have ill-become one of our own women. She did not look about; her
      hands were still, her head was up. At former times with her own set she
      had been wont to exhibit a rather defiant vivacity. Now she did not
      challenge. Finely, eloquently, there pervaded her a reserve that seemed
      almost to exhale a fragrance. But of course that is silly rot. I mean to
      say, she drew the attention without visible effort. She only waited.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Earl of Brinstead, as we all saw, had continued to stare. Thrice
      slowly arose the spoon of soup, for mere animal habit was strong upon him,
      yet at a certain elevation it each time fell slowly back. He was acting
      like a mechanical toy. Then the Mixer caught his eye and nodded crisply.
      He bobbed in response.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What ho! The dowager!&rdquo; he exclaimed, and that time the soup was
      successfully resumed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Poor old mater!&rdquo; sighed his hostess. &ldquo;She&rsquo;s constantly taking up people.
      One does, you know, in these queer Western towns.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Jolly old thing, awfully good sort!&rdquo; said his lordship, but his eyes were
      not on the Mixer.
    </p>
    <p>
      Terribly then I recalled the Honourable George&rsquo;s behaviour at that same
      table the night he had first viewed this Klondike person. His lordship was
      staring in much the same fashion. Yet I was relieved to observe that the
      woman this time was quite unconscious of the interest she had aroused. In
      the case of the Honourable George, who had frankly ogled her&mdash;for the
      poor chap has ever lacked the finer shades in these matters&mdash;she had
      not only been aware of it but had deliberately played upon it. It is not
      too much to say that she had shown herself to be a creature of
      blandishments. More than once she had permitted her eyes to rest upon him
      with that peculiarly womanish gaze which, although superficially of a
      blank innocence, is yet all-seeing and even shoots little fine arrows of
      questions from its ambuscade. But now she was ignoring his lordship as
      utterly as she did the Belknap-Jacksons.
    </p>
    <p>
      To be sure she may later have been in some way informed that his eyes were
      seeking her, but never once, I am sure, did she descend to even a veiled
      challenge of his glance or betray the faintest discreet consciousness of
      it. And this I was indeed glad to note in her. Clearly she must know where
      to draw the line, permitting herself a malicious laxity with a younger
      brother which she would not have the presumption to essay with the holder
      of the title. Pleased I was, I say, to detect in her this proper respect
      for his lordship&rsquo;s position. It showed her to be not all unworthy.
    </p>
    <p>
      The dinner proceeded, his lordship being good enough to compliment me on
      the fare which I knew was done to his liking. Yet, even in the very
      presence of the boiled mutton, his eyes were too often upon his neighbour.
      When he behaved thus in the presence of a dish of mutton I had not to be
      told that he was strongly moved. I uneasily recalled now that he had once
      been a bit of a dog himself. I mean to say, there was talk in the
      countryside, though of course it had died out a score of years ago. I
      thought it as well, however, that he be told almost immediately that the
      person he honoured with his glance was no other than the one he had come
      to subtract his unfortunate brother from.
    </p>
    <p>
      The dinner progressed&mdash;somewhat jerkily because of his lordship&rsquo;s
      inattention&mdash;through the pudding and cheese to coffee. Never had I
      known his lordship behave so languidly in the presence of food he cared
      for. His hosts ate even less. They were worried. Mrs. Belknap-Jackson,
      however, could simply no longer contain within herself the secret of their
      guest&rsquo;s identity. With excuses to the deaf ears of his lordship she left
      to address a friend at a distant table. She addressed others at other
      tables, leaving a flutter of sensation in her wake.
    </p>
    <p>
      Belknap-Jackson, having lighted one of his non-throat cigarettes,
      endeavoured to engross his lordship with an account of their last election
      of officers to the country club. His lordship was not properly attentive
      to this. Indeed, with his hostess gone he no longer made any pretence of
      concealing his interest in the other table. I saw him catch the eye of the
      Mixer and astonishingly intercepted from her a swift but most egregious
      wink.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;One moment,&rdquo; said his lordship to the host. &ldquo;Must pay my respects to the
      dowager, what, what! Jolly old muggins, yes!&rdquo; And he was gone.
    </p>
    <p>
      I heard the Mixer&rsquo;s amazing presentation speech.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Mrs. Kenner, Mr. Floud, his lordship&mdash;say, listen here, is your
      right name Brinstead, or Basingwell, like your brother&rsquo;s?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The Klondike person acknowledged the thing with a faintly gracious nod. It
      carried an air, despite the slightness of it. Cousin Egbert was more
      cordial.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Pleased to meet you, Lord!&rdquo; said he, and grasped the newcomer&rsquo;s hand.
      &ldquo;Come on, set in with us and have some coffee and a cigar. Here, Jeff,
      bring the lord a good cigar. We was just talking about you that minute.
      How do you like our town? Say, this here Kulanche Valley&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; I
      lost the rest. His lordship had seated himself. At his own table
      Belknap-Jackson writhed acutely. He was lighting a second cigarette&mdash;the
      first not yet a quarter consumed!
    </p>
    <p>
      At once the four began to be thick as thieves, though it was apparent his
      lordship had eyes only for the woman. Coffee was brought. His lordship
      lighted his cigar. And now the word had so run from Mrs. Belknap-Jackson
      that all eyes were drawn to this table. She had created her sensation and
      it had become all at once more of one than she had thought. From Mrs.
      Judge Ballard&rsquo;s table I caught her glare at her unconscious mother. It was
      not the way one&rsquo;s daughter should regard one in public.
    </p>
    <p>
      Presently contriving to pass the table again, I noted that Cousin Egbert
      had changed his form of address.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Have some brandy with your coffee, Earl. Here, Jeff, bring Earl and all
      of us some lee-cures.&rdquo; I divined the monstrous truth that he supposed
      himself to be calling his lordship by his first name, and he in turn must
      have understood my shocked glance of rebuke, for a bit later, with glad
      relief in his tones, he was addressing his lordship as &ldquo;Cap!&rdquo; And myself
      he had given the rank of colonel!
    </p>
    <p>
      The Klondike person in the beginning finely maintained her reserve. Only
      at the last did she descend to vivacity or the use of her eyes. This later
      laxness made me wonder if, after all, she would feel bound to pay his
      lordship the respect he was wont to command from her class.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You and poor George are rather alike,&rdquo; I overheard, &ldquo;except that he uses
      the single &lsquo;what&rsquo; and you use the double. Hasn&rsquo;t he any right to use the
      double &lsquo;what&rsquo; yet, and what does it mean, anyway? Tell us.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What, what!&rdquo; demanded his lordship, a bit puzzled.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But that&rsquo;s it! What do you say &lsquo;What, what&rsquo; for? It can&rsquo;t do you any
      good.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What, what! But I mean to say, you&rsquo;re having me on. My word you are&mdash;spoofing,
      I mean to say. What, what! To be sure. Chaffing lot, you are!&rdquo; He laughed.
      He was behaving almost with levity.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But poor old George is so much younger than you&mdash;you must make
      allowances,&rdquo; I again caught her saying; and his lordship replied:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Not at all; not at all! Matter of a half-score years. Barely a
      half-score; nine and a few months. Younger? What rot! Chaffing again.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Really it was a bit thick, the creature saying &ldquo;poor old George&rdquo; quite as
      if he were something in an institution, having to be wheeled about in a
      bath-chair with rugs and water-bottles!
    </p>
    <p>
      Glad I was when the trio gave signs of departure. It was woman&rsquo;s craft
      dictating it, I dare say. She had made her effect and knew when to go.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Of course we shall have to talk over my dreadful designs on your poor old
      George,&rdquo; said the amazing woman, intently regarding his lordship at
      parting.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Leave it to me,&rdquo; said he, with a scarcely veiled significance.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, see you again, Cap,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert warmly. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take you
      around to meet some of the boys. We&rsquo;ll see you have a good time.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What ho!&rdquo; his lordship replied cordially. The Klondike person flashed him
      one enigmatic look, then turned to precede her companions. Again down the
      thronged room she swept, with that chin-lifted, drooping-eyed, faintly
      offended half consciousness of some staring rabble at hand that concerned
      her not at all. Her alert feminine foes, I am certain, read no slightest
      trace of amusement in her unwavering lowered glance. So easily she could
      have been crude here!
    </p>
    <p>
      Belknap-Jackson, enduring his ignominious solitude to the limit of his
      powers, had joined his wife at the lower end of the room. They had taken
      the unfortunate development with what grace they could. His lordship had
      dropped in upon them quite informally&mdash;charming man that he was. Of
      course he would quickly break up the disgraceful affair. Beginning at
      once. They would doubtless entertain for him in a quiet way&mdash;&mdash;
    </p>
    <p>
      At the deserted table his lordship now relieved a certain sickening
      apprehension that had beset me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What, what! Quite right to call me out here. Shan&rsquo;t forget it. Dangerous
      creature, that. Badly needed, I was. Can&rsquo;t think why you waited so long!
      Anything might have happened to old George. Break it up proper, though.
      Never do at all. Impossible person for him. Quite!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I saw they had indeed taken no pains to hide the woman&rsquo;s identity from him
      nor their knowledge of his reason for coming out to the States, though
      with wretchedly low taste they had done this chaffingly. Yet it was only
      too plain that his lordship now realized what had been the profound
      gravity of the situation, and I was glad to see that he meant to end it
      without any nonsense.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Silly ass, old George, though,&rdquo; he added as the Belknap-Jacksons
      approached. &ldquo;How a creature like that could ever have fancied him! What,
      what!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      His hosts were profuse in their apologies for having so thoughtlessly run
      away from his lordship&mdash;they carried it off rather well. They were
      keen for sitting at the table once more, as the other observant diners
      were lingering on, but his lordship would have none of this.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Stuffy place!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Best be getting on.&rdquo; And so, reluctantly, they
      led him down the gauntlet of widened eyes. Even so, the tenth Earl of
      Brinstead had dined publicly with them. More than repaid they were for the
      slight the Honourable George had put upon them in the affair of the
      pianoforte artist.
    </p>
    <p>
      An hour later Belknap-Jackson had me on by telephone. His voice was not a
      little worried.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I say, is his lordship, the Earl, subject to spells of any sort? We were
      in the library where I was showing him some photographic views of dear old
      Boston, and right over a superb print of our public library he seemed to
      lose consciousness. Might it be a stroke? Or do you think it&rsquo;s just a
      healthy sleep? And shall I venture to shake him? How would he take that?
      Or should I merely cover him with a travelling rug? It would be so
      dreadful if anything happened when he&rsquo;s been with us such a little time.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I knew his lordship. He has the gift of sleeping quite informally when his
      attention is not too closely engaged. I suggested that the host set his
      musical phonograph in motion on some one of the more audible selections.
      As I heard no more from him that night I dare say my plan worked.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our town, as may be imagined, buzzed with transcendent gossip on the
      morrow. The <i>Recorder</i> disclosed at last that the Belknap-Jacksons of
      Boston and Red Gap were quietly entertaining his lordship, the Earl of
      Brinstead, though since the evening before this had been news to hardly
      any one. Nor need it be said that a viciously fermenting element in the
      gossip concerned the apparently cordial meeting of his lordship with the
      Klondike person, an encounter that had been watched with jealous eyes by
      more than one matron of the North Side set. It was even intimated that if
      his lordship had come to put the creature in her place he had chosen a
      curious way to set about it.
    </p>
    <p>
      Also there were hard words uttered of the Belknap-Jacksons by Mrs. Effie,
      and severe blame put upon myself because his lordship had not come out to
      the Flouds&rsquo;.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But the Brinsteads have always stopped with us before,&rdquo; she went about
      saying, as if there had been a quite long succession of them. I mean to
      say, only the Honourable George had stopped on with them, unless, indeed,
      the woman actually counted me as one. Between herself and Mrs.
      Belknap-Jackson, I understood, there ensued early that morning by
      telephone a passage of virulent acidity, Mrs. Effie being heard by Cousin
      Egbert to say bluntly that she would get even.
    </p>
    <p>
      Undoubtedly she did not share the annoyance of the Belknap-Jacksons at
      certain eccentricities now developed by his lordship which made him at
      times a trying house guest. That first morning he arose at five sharp, a
      custom of his which I deeply regretted not having warned his host about.
      Discovering quite no one about, he had ventured abroad in search of
      breakfast, finding it at length in the eating establishment known as
      &ldquo;Bert&rsquo;s Place,&rdquo; in company with engine-drivers, plate-layers, milk
      persons, and others of a common sort.
    </p>
    <p>
      Thereafter he had tramped furiously about the town and its environs for
      some hours, at last encountering Cousin Egbert who escorted him to the
      Floud home for his first interview with the Honourable George. The latter
      received his lordship in bed, so Cousin Egbert later informed me. He had
      left the two together, whereupon for an hour there were heard quite all
      over the house words of the most explosive character. Cousin Egbert, much
      alarmed at the passionate beginning of the interview, suspected they might
      do each other a mischief, and for some moments hovered about with the aim,
      if need be, of preserving human life. But as the uproar continued evenly,
      he at length concluded they would do no more than talk, the outcome
      proving the accuracy of his surmise.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mrs. Effie, meantime, saw her opportunity and seized it with a cool
      readiness which I have often remarked in her. Belknap-Jackson, distressed
      beyond measure at the strange absence of his guest, had communicated with
      me by telephone several times without result. Not until near noon was I
      able to give him any light. Mrs. Effie had then called me to know what his
      lordship preferred for luncheon. Replying that cold beef, pickles, and
      beer were his usual mid-day fancy, I hastened to allay the fears of the
      Belknap-Jacksons, only to find that Mrs. Effie had been before me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;She says,&rdquo; came the annoyed voice of the host, &ldquo;that the dear Earl
      dropped in for a chat with his brother and has most delightfully begged
      her to give him luncheon. She says he will doubtless wish to drive with
      them this afternoon, but I had already planned to drive him myself&mdash;to
      the country club and about. The woman is high-handed, I must say. For
      God&rsquo;s sake, can&rsquo;t you do something?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I was obliged to tell him straight that the thing was beyond me, though I
      promised to recover his guest promptly, should any opportunity occur. The
      latter did not, however, drive with the Flouds that afternoon. He was
      observed walking abroad with Cousin Egbert, and it was later reported by
      persons of unimpeachable veracity that they had been seen to enter the
      Klondike person&rsquo;s establishment.
    </p>
    <p>
      Evening drew on without further news. But then certain elated members of
      the Bohemian set made it loosely known that they were that evening to dine
      informally at their leader&rsquo;s house to meet his lordship. It seemed a bit
      extraordinary to me, yet I could not but rejoice that he should thus adopt
      the peaceful methods of diplomacy for the extrication of his brother.
    </p>
    <p>
      Belknap-Jackson now telephoning to know if I had heard this report&mdash;&ldquo;canard&rdquo;
       he styled it&mdash;I confirmed it and remarked that his lordship was
      undoubtedly by way of bringing strong pressure to bear on the woman.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But I had expected him to meet a few people here this evening,&rdquo; cried the
      host pathetically. I was then obliged to tell him that the Brinsteads for
      centuries had been bluntly averse to meeting a few people. It seemed to
      run in the blood.
    </p>
    <p>
      The Bohemian dinner, although quite informal, was said to have been highly
      enjoyed by all, including the Honourable George, who was among those
      present, as well as Cousin Egbert. The latter gossiped briefly of the
      affair the following day.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Sure, the Cap had a good time all right,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Of course he ain&rsquo;t
      the mixer the Judge is, but he livens up quite some, now and then. Talks
      like a bunch of firecrackers going off all to once, don&rsquo;t he? Funny guy. I
      walked with him to the Jacksons&rsquo; about twelve or one. He&rsquo;s going back to
      Mis&rsquo; Kenner&rsquo;s house today. He says it&rsquo;ll take a lot of talking back and
      forth to get this thing settled right, and it&rsquo;s got to be right, he says.
      He seen that right off.&rdquo; He paused as if to meditate profoundly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;If you was to ask me, though, I&rsquo;d say she had him&mdash;just like that!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      He held an open hand toward me, then tightly clenched it.
    </p>
    <p>
      Suspecting he might spread absurd gossip of this sort, I explained
      carefully to him that his lordship had indeed at once perceived her to be
      a dangerous woman; and that he was now taking his own cunning way to break
      off the distressing affair between her and his brother. He listened
      patiently, but seemed wedded to some monstrous view of his own.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Them dames of that there North Side set better watch out,&rdquo; he remarked
      ominously. &ldquo;First thing they know, what that Kate Kenner&rsquo;ll hand them&mdash;they
      can make a lemonade out of!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I could make but little of this, save its general import, which was of
      course quite shockingly preposterous. I found myself wishing, to be sure,
      that his lordship had been able to accomplish his mission to North America
      without appearing to meet the person as a social equal, as I feared indeed
      that a wrong impression of his attitude would be gained by the
      undiscerning public. It might have been better, I was almost quite
      certain, had he adopted a stern and even brutal method at the outset,
      instead of the circuitous and diplomatic. Belknap-Jackson shared this view
      with me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I should hate dreadfully to have his lordship&rsquo;s reputation suffer for
      this,&rdquo; he confided to me.
    </p>
    <p>
      The first week dragged to its close in this regrettable fashion. Oftener
      than not his hosts caught no glimpse of his lordship throughout the day.
      The smart trap and the tandem team were constantly ready, but he had not
      yet been driven abroad by his host. Each day he alleged the necessity of
      conferring with the woman.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Dangerous creature, my word! But dangerous!&rdquo; he would announce. &ldquo;Takes no
      end of managing. Do it, though; do it proper. Take a high hand with her.
      Can&rsquo;t have silly old George in a mess. Own brother, what, what! Time
      needed, though. Not with you at dinner, if you don&rsquo;t mind. Creature has a
      way of picking up things not half nasty.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      But each day Belknap-Jackson met him with pressing offers of such
      entertainment as the town afforded. Three times he had been
      obliged to postpone the informal evening affair for a few smart people.
      Yet, though patient, he was determined. Reluctantly at last he abandoned
      the design of driving his guest about in the trap, but he insistently put
      forward the motor-car. He would drive it himself. They would spend
      pleasant hours going about the country. His lordship continued elusive. To
      myself he confided that his host was a nagger.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Awfully nagging sort, yes. Doesn&rsquo;t know the strain I&rsquo;m under getting this
      silly affair straight. Country interesting no doubt, what, what! But, my
      word! saw nothing but country coming out. Country quite all about, miles
      and miles both sides of the metals. Seen enough country. Seen motor-cars,
      too, my word. Enough of both, what, what!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Yet it seemed that on the Saturday after his arrival he could no longer
      decently put off his insistent host. He consented to accompany him in the
      motor-car. Rotten judging it was on the part of Belknap-Jackson. He should
      have listened to me. They departed after luncheon, the host at the wheel.
      I had his account of such following events as I did not myself observe.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Our country club,&rdquo; he observed early in the drive. &ldquo;No one there, of
      course. You&rsquo;d never believe the trouble I&rsquo;ve had&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Jolly good club,&rdquo; replied his lordship. &ldquo;Drive back that way.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Back that way,&rdquo; it appeared, would take them by the detached villa of the
      Klondike person.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Stop here,&rdquo; directed his lordship. &ldquo;Shan&rsquo;t detain you a moment.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      This was at two-thirty of a fair afternoon. I am able to give but the bare
      facts, yet I must assume that the emotions of Belknap-Jackson as he waited
      there during the ensuing two hours were of a quite distressing nature. As
      much was intimated by several observant townspeople who passed him. He was
      said to be distrait; to be smoking his cigarettes furiously.
    </p>
    <p>
      At four-thirty his lordship reappeared. With apparent solicitude he
      escorted the Klondike person, fetchingly gowned in a street costume of the
      latest mode. They chatted gayly to the car.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Hope I&rsquo;ve not kept you waiting, old chap,&rdquo; said his lordship genially.
      &ldquo;Time slips by one so. You two met, of course, course!&rdquo; He bestowed his
      companion in the tonneau and ensconced himself beside her.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Drive,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;to your goods shops, draper&rsquo;s, chemist&rsquo;s&mdash;where
      was it?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;To the Central Market,&rdquo; responded the lady in bell-like tones, &ldquo;then to
      the Red Front store, and to that dear little Japanese shop, if he doesn&rsquo;t
      mind.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Mind! Mind! Course not, course not! Are you warm? Let me fasten the
      robe.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I confess to have felt a horrid fascination for this moment as I was able
      to reconstruct it from Belknap-Jackson&rsquo;s impassioned words. It was by way
      of being one of those scenes we properly loathe yet morbidly cannot resist
      overlooking if opportunity offers.
    </p>
    <p>
      Into the flood tide of our Saturday shopping throng swept the car and its
      remarkably assembled occupants. The street fair gasped. The woman&rsquo;s former
      parade of the Honourable George had been as nothing to this exposure.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Poor Jackson&rsquo;s face was a study,&rdquo; declared the Mixer to me later.
    </p>
    <p>
      I dare say. It was still a study when my own turn came to observe it. The
      car halted before the shops that had been designated. The Klondike person
      dispatched her commissions in a superbly leisured manner, attentively
      accompanied by the Earl of Brinstead bearing packages for her.
    </p>
    <p>
      Belknap-Jackson, at the wheel, stared straight ahead. I am told he bore
      himself with dignity even when some of our more ingenuous citizens paused
      to converse with him concerning his new motor-car. He is even said to have
      managed a smile when his passengers returned.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I have it,&rdquo; exclaimed his lordship now. &ldquo;Deuced good plan&mdash;go to
      that Ruggles place for a jolly fat tea. No end of a spree, what, what!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      It is said that on three occasions in turning his car and traversing the
      short block to the Grill the owner escaped disastrous collision with other
      vehicles only by the narrowest possible margin. He may have courted
      something of the sort. I dare say he was desperate.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Join us, of course!&rdquo; said his lordship, as he assisted his companion to
      alight. Again I am told the host managed to illumine his refusal with a
      smile. He would take no tea&mdash;the doctor&rsquo;s orders.
    </p>
    <p>
      The surprising pair entered at the height of my tea-hour and were served
      to an accompaniment of stares from the ladies present. To this they
      appeared oblivious, being intent upon their conference. His lordship was
      amiable to a degree. It now occurred to me that he had found the woman
      even more dangerous than he had at first supposed. He was being forced to
      play a deep game with her and was meeting guile with guile. He had, I
      suspected, found his poor brother far deeper in than any of us had
      thought. Doubtless he had written compromising letters that must be
      secured&mdash;letters she would hold at a price.
    </p>
    <p>
      And yet I had never before had excuse to believe his lordship possessed
      the diplomatic temperament. I reflected that I must always have misread
      him. He was deep, after all. Not until the two left did I learn that
      Belknap-Jackson awaited them with his car. He loitered about in adjacent
      doorways, quite like a hired fellow. He was passionately smoking more
      cigarettes than were good for him.
    </p>
    <p>
      I escorted my guests to the car. Belknap-Jackson took his seat with but
      one glance at me, yet it was eloquent of all the ignominy that had been
      heaped upon him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Home, I think,&rdquo; said the lady when they were well seated. She said it
      charmingly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Home,&rdquo; repeated his lordship. &ldquo;Are you quite protected by the robe?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      An incautious pedestrian at the next crossing narrowly escaped being run
      down. He shook a fist at the vanishing car and uttered a stream of oaths
      so vile that he would instantly have been taken up in any well-policed
      city.
    </p>
    <p>
      Half an hour later Belknap-Jackson called me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He got out with that fiend! He&rsquo;s staying on there. But, my God! can
      nothing be done?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;His lordship is playing a most desperate game,&rdquo; I hastened to assure him.
      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s meeting difficulties. She must have her dupe&rsquo;s letters in her
      possession. Blackmail, I dare say. Best leave his lordship free. He&rsquo;s a
      deep character.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He presumed far this afternoon&mdash;only the man&rsquo;s position saved him
      with me!&rdquo; His voice seemed choked with anger. Then, remotely, faint as
      distant cannonading, a rumble reached me. It was hoarse laughter of the
      Mixer, perhaps in another room. The electric telephone has been perfected
      in the States to a marvellous delicacy of response.
    </p>
    <p>
      I now found myself observing Mrs. Effie, who had been among the absorbed
      onlookers while the pair were at their tea, she having occupied a table
      with Mrs. Judge Ballard and Mrs. Dr. Martingale. Deeply immersed in
      thought she had been, scarce replying to her companions. Her eyes had
      narrowed in a way I well knew when she reviewed the social field.
    </p>
    <p>
      Still absorbed she was when Cousin Egbert entered, accompanied by the
      Honourable George. The latter had seen but little of his brother since
      their first stormy interview, but he had also seen little of the Klondike
      woman. His spirits, however, had seemed quite undashed. He rarely missed
      his tea. Now as they seated themselves they were joined quickly by Mrs.
      Effie, who engaged her relative in earnest converse. It was easy to see
      that she begged a favour. She kept a hand on his arm. She urged.
      Presently, seeming to have achieved her purpose, she left them, and I
      paused to greet the pair.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I guess that there Mrs. Effie is awful silly,&rdquo; remarked Cousin Egbert
      enigmatically. &ldquo;No, sir; she can&rsquo;t ever tell how the cat is going to
      jump.&rdquo; Nor would he say more, though he most elatedly held a secret.
    </p>
    <p>
      With this circumstance I connected the announcement in Monday&rsquo;s <i>Recorder</i>
      that Mrs. Senator Floud would on that evening entertain at dinner the
      members of Red Gap&rsquo;s Bohemian set, including Mrs. Kate Kenner, the guest
      of honour being his lordship the Earl of Brinstead, &ldquo;at present visiting
      in this city. Covers,&rdquo; it added, &ldquo;would be laid for fourteen.&rdquo; I saw that
      Cousin Egbert would have been made the ambassador to conduct what must
      have been a business of some delicacy.
    </p>
    <p>
      Among the members of the North Side set the report occasioned the wildest
      alarm. And yet so staunch were known to be the principles of Mrs. Effie
      that but few accused her of downright treachery. It seemed to be felt that
      she was but lending herself to the furtherance of some deep design of his
      lordship&rsquo;s. Blackmail, the recovery of compromising letters, the avoidance
      of legal proceedings&mdash;these were hinted at. For myself I suspected
      that she had merely misconstrued the seeming cordiality of his lordship
      toward the woman and, at the expense of the Belknap-Jacksons, had sought
      the honour of entertaining him. If, to do that, she must entertain the
      woman, well and good. She was not one to funk her fences with the game in
      sight.
    </p>
    <p>
      Consulting me as to the menu for her dinner, she allowed herself to be
      persuaded to the vegetable soup, boiled mutton, thick pudding, and cheese
      which I recommended, though she pleaded at length for a chance to use the
      new fish set and for a complicated salad portrayed in her latest woman&rsquo;s
      magazine. Covered with grated nuts it was in the illustration. I was able,
      however, to convince her that his lordship would regard grated nuts as
      silly.
    </p>
    <p>
      From Belknap-Jackson I learned by telephone (during these days, being
      sensitive, he stopped in almost quite continuously) that Mrs. Effie had
      profusely explained to his wife about the dinner. &ldquo;Of course, my dear, I
      couldn&rsquo;t have the presumption to ask you and your husband to sit at table
      with the creature, even if he did think it all right to drive her about
      town on a shopping trip. But I thought we ought to do something to make
      the dear Earl&rsquo;s visit one to be remembered&mdash;he&rsquo;s <i>so</i>
      appreciative! I&rsquo;m sure you understand just how things are&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      In reciting this speech to me Belknap-Jackson essayed to simulate the tone
      and excessive manner of a woman gushing falsely. The fellow was quite
      bitter about it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I sometimes think I&rsquo;ll give up,&rdquo; he concluded. &ldquo;God only knows what
      things are coming to!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      It began to seem even to me that they were coming a bit thick. But I knew
      that his lordship was a determined man. He was of the bulldog breed that
      has made old England what it is. I mean to say, I knew he would put the
      woman in her place.
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER NINETEEN
    </h2>
    <p>
      Echoes of the Monday night dinner reached me the following day. The affair
      had passed off pleasantly enough, the members of the Bohemian set
      conducting themselves quite as persons who mattered, with the exception of
      the Klondike woman herself, who, I gathered, had descended to a mood of
      most indecorous liveliness considering who the guest of honour was. She
      had not only played and sung those noisy native folksongs of hers, but she
      had, it seemed, conducted herself with a certain facetious familiarity
      toward his lordship.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Every now and then,&rdquo; said Cousin Egbert, my principal informant, &ldquo;she&rsquo;d
      whirl in and josh the Cap all over the place about them funny whiskers he
      wears. She told him out and out he&rsquo;d just got to lose them.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Shocking rudeness!&rdquo; I exclaimed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Oh, sure, sure!&rdquo; he agreed, yet without indignation. &ldquo;And the Cap just
      hated her for it&mdash;you could tell that by the way he looked at her.
      Oh, he hates her something terrible. He just can&rsquo;t bear the sight of her.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Naturally enough,&rdquo; I observed, though there had been an undercurrent to
      his speech that I thought almost quite a little odd. His accents were
      queerly placed. Had I not known him too well I should have thought him
      trying to be deep. I recalled his other phrases, that Mrs. Effie was
      seeing which way a cat would leap, and that the Klondike person would hand
      the ladies of the North Side set a lemon squash. I put them all down as
      childish prattle and said as much to the Mixer later in the day as she had
      a dish of tea at the Grill.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, Sour-dough&rsquo;s right,&rdquo; she observed. &ldquo;That Earl just hates the sight
      of her&mdash;can&rsquo;t bear to look at her a minute.&rdquo; But she, too, intoned
      the thing queerly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;He&rsquo;s putting pressure to bear on her,&rdquo; I said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Pressure!&rdquo; said the Mixer; and then, &ldquo;Hum!&rdquo; very dryly.
    </p>
    <p>
      With this news, however, it was plain as a pillar-box that things were
      going badly with his lordship&rsquo;s effort to release the Honourable George
      from his entanglement. The woman, doubtless with his compromising letters,
      would be holding out for a stiffish price; she would think them worth no
      end. And plainly again, his lordship had thrown off his mask; was unable
      longer to conceal his aversion for her. This, to be sure, was more in
      accordance with his character as I had long observed it. If he hated her
      it was like him to show it when he looked at her. I mean he was quite like
      that with almost any one. I hoped, however, that diplomacy might still
      save us all sorts of a nasty row.
    </p>
    <p>
      To my relief when the pair appeared for tea that afternoon&mdash;a sight
      no longer causing the least sensation&mdash;I saw that his lordship must
      have returned to his first or diplomatic manner. Doubtless he still hated
      her, but one would little have suspected it from his manner of looking at
      her. I mean to say, he looked at her another way. The opposite way, in
      fact. He was being subtle in the extreme. I fancied it must have been her
      wretched levity regarding his beard that had goaded him into the
      exhibitions of hatred noted by Cousin Egbert and the Mixer. Unquestionably
      his lordship may be goaded in no time if one deliberately sets about it.
      At the time, doubtless, he had sliced a drive or two, as one might say,
      but now he was back in form.
    </p>
    <p>
      Again I confess I was not a little sorry for the creature, seeing her
      there so smartly taken in by his effusive manner. He was having her on in
      the most obvious way and she, poor dupe, taking it all quite seriously.
      Prime it was, though, considering the creature&rsquo;s designs; and I again
      marvelled that in all the years of my association with his lordship I had
      never suspected what a topping sort he could be at this game. His mask was
      now perfect. It recalled, indeed, Cousin Egbert&rsquo;s simple but telling
      phrase about the Honourable George&mdash;&ldquo;He looks at her!&rdquo; It could now
      have been said of his lordship with the utmost significance to any but
      those in the know.
    </p>
    <p>
      And so began, quite as had the first, the second week of his lordship&rsquo;s
      stay among us. Knowing he had booked a return from Cooks, I fancied that
      results of some sort must soon ensue. The pressure he was putting on the
      woman must begin to tell. And this was the extreme of the encouragement I
      was able to offer the Belknap-Jacksons. Both he and his wife were of
      course in a bit of a state. Nor could I blame them. With an Earl for house
      guest they must be content with but a glimpse of him at odd moments.
      Rather a barren honour they were finding it.
    </p>
    <p>
      His lordship&rsquo;s conferences with the woman were unabated. When not secluded
      with her at her own establishment he would be abroad with her in her trap
      or in the car of Belknap-Jackson. The owner, however, no longer drove his
      car. He had never taken another chance. And well I knew these activities
      of his lordship&rsquo;s were being basely misconstrued by the gossips.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The Cap is certainly some queener,&rdquo; remarked Cousin Egbert, which perhaps
      reflected the view of the deceived public at this time, the curious term
      implying that his lordship was by way of being a bit of a dog. But calm I
      remained under these aspersions, counting upon a clean-cut vindication of
      his lordship&rsquo;s methods when he should have got the woman where he wished
      her.
    </p>
    <p>
      I remained, I repeat, serenely confident that a signal triumph would
      presently crown his lordship&rsquo;s subtly planned attack. And then, at
      midweek, I was rudely shocked to the suspicion that all might not be going
      well with his plan. I had not seen the pair for a day, and when they did
      appear for their tea I instantly detected a profound change in their
      mutual bearing. His lordship still looked at the woman, but the raillery
      of their past meetings had gone. Too plainly something momentous had
      occurred. Even the woman was serious. Had they fought to the last stand?
      Would she have been too much for him? I mean to say, was the Honourable
      George cooked?
    </p>
    <p>
      I now recalled that I had observed an almost similar change in the
      latter&rsquo;s manner. His face wore a look of wildest gloom that might have
      been mitigated perhaps by a proper trimming of his beard, but even then it
      would have been remarked by those who knew him well. I divined, I repeat,
      that something momentous had now occurred and that the Honourable George
      was one not least affected by it.
    </p>
    <p>
      Rather a sleepless night I passed, wondering fearfully if, after all, his
      lordship would have been unable to extricate the poor chap from this
      sordid entanglement. Had the creature held out for too much? Had she
      refused to compromise? Would there be one of those appalling legal things
      which our best families so often suffer? What if the victim were to cut
      off home?
    </p>
    <p>
      Nor was my trepidation allayed by the cryptic remark of Mrs. Judson as I
      passed her at her tasks in the pantry that morning:
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A prince in his palace not too good&mdash;that&rsquo;s what I said!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      She shot the thing at me with a manner suspiciously near to flippancy. I
      sternly demanded her meaning.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I mean what I mean,&rdquo; she retorted, shutting her lips upon it in a
      definite way she has. Well enough I knew the import of her uncivil speech,
      but I resolved not to bandy words with her, because in my position it
      would be undignified; because, further, of an unfortunate effect she has
      upon my temper at such times.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;She&rsquo;s being terrible careful about <i>her</i> associates,&rdquo; she presently
      went on, with a most irritating effect of addressing only herself;
      &ldquo;nothing at all but just dukes and earls and lords day in and day out!&rdquo;
       Too often when the woman seems to wish it she contrives to get me in
      motion, as the American saying is.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;And it is deeply to be regretted,&rdquo; I replied with dignity, &ldquo;that other
      persons must say less of themselves if put to it.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Well she knew what I meant. Despite my previous clear warning, she had
      more than once accepted small gifts from the cattle-persons, Hank and
      Buck, and had even been seen brazenly in public with them at a cinema
      palace. One of a more suspicious nature than I might have guessed that she
      conducted herself thus for the specific purpose of enraging me, but I am
      glad to say that no nature could be more free than mine from vulgar
      jealousy, and I spoke now from the mere wish that she should more
      carefully guard her reputation. As before, she exhibited a surprising
      meekness under this rebuke, though I uneasily wondered if there might not
      be guile beneath it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Can I help it,&rdquo; she asked, &ldquo;if they like to show me attentions? I guess
      I&rsquo;m a free woman.&rdquo; She lifted her head to observe a glass she had
      polished. Her eyes were curiously lighted. She had this way of
      embarrassing me. And invariably, moreover, she aroused all that is evil in
      my nature against the two cattle-persons, especially the Buck one,
      actually on another occasion professing admiration for &ldquo;his wavy chestnut
      hair!&rdquo; I saw now that I could not trust myself to speak of the fellow. I
      took up another matter.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;That baby of yours is too horribly fat,&rdquo; I said suddenly. I had long
      meant to put this to her. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s too fat. It eats too much!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      To my amazement the creature was transformed into a vixen.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;It&mdash;it! Too fat! You call my boy &lsquo;it&rsquo; and say he&rsquo;s too fat! Don&rsquo;t
      you dare! What does a creature like you know of babies? Why, you wouldn&rsquo;t
      even know&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      But the thing was too painful. Let her angry words be forgotten. Suffice
      to say, she permitted herself to cry out things that might have given
      grave offence to one less certain of himself than I. Rather chilled I
      admit I was by her frenzied outburst. I was shrewd enough to see instantly
      that anything in the nature of a criticism of her offspring must be led up
      to, rather; perhaps couched in less direct phrases than I had chosen.
      Fearful I was that she would burst into another torrent of rage, but to my
      amazement she all at once smiled.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What a fool I am!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;Kidding me, were you? Trying to make
      me mad about the baby. Well, I&rsquo;ll give you good. You did it. Yes, sir, I
      never would have thought you had a kidding streak in you&mdash;old
      glum-face!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Little you know me,&rdquo; I retorted, and quickly withdrew, for I was then
      more embarrassed than ever, and, besides, there were other and graver
      matters forward to depress and occupy me.
    </p>
    <p>
      In my fitful sleep of the night before I had dreamed vividly that I saw
      the Honourable George being dragged shackled to the altar. I trust I am
      not superstitious, but the vision had remained with me in all its
      tormenting detail. A veiled woman had grimly awaited him as he struggled
      with his uniformed captors. I mean to say, he was being hustled along by
      two constables.
    </p>
    <p>
      That day, let me now put down, was to be a day of the most fearful shocks
      that a man of rather sensitive nervous organism has ever been called upon
      to endure. There are now lines in my face that I make no doubt showed then
      for the first time.
    </p>
    <p>
      And it was a day that dragged interminably, so that I became fair off my
      head with the suspense of it, feeling that at any moment the worst might
      happen. For hours I saw no one with whom I could consult. Once I was
      almost moved to call up Belknap-Jackson, so intolerable was the menacing
      uncertainty; but this I knew bordered on hysteria, and I restrained the
      impulse with an iron will.
    </p>
    <p>
      But I wretchedly longed for a sight of Cousin Egbert or the Mixer, or even
      of the Honourable George; some one to assure me that my horrid dream of
      the night before had been a baseless fabric, as the saying is. The very
      absence of these people and of his lordship was in itself ominous.
    </p>
    <p>
      Nervously I kept to a post at one of my windows where I could survey the
      street. And here at mid-day I sustained my first shock. Terrific it was.
      His lordship had emerged from the chemist&rsquo;s across the street. He paused a
      moment, as if to recall his next mission, then walked briskly off. And
      this is what I had been stupefied to note: he was clean shaven! The
      Brinstead side-whiskers were gone! Whiskers that had been worn in
      precisely that fashion by a tremendous line of the Earls of Brinstead! And
      the tenth of his line had abandoned them. As well, I thought, could he
      have defaced the Brinstead arms.
    </p>
    <p>
      It was plain as a pillar-box, indeed. The woman had our family at her
      mercy, and she would show no mercy. My heart sank as I pictured the
      Honourable George in her toils. My dream had been prophetic. Then I
      reflected that this very circumstance of his lordship&rsquo;s having pandered to
      her lawless whim about his beard would go to show he had not yet given up
      the fight. If the thing were hopeless I knew he would have seen her&mdash;dashed&mdash;before
      he would have relinquished it. There plainly was still hope for poor
      George. Indeed his lordship might well have planned some splendid coup;
      this defacement would be a part of his strategy, suffered in anguish for
      his ultimate triumph. Quite cheered I became at the thought. I still
      scanned the street crowd for some one who could acquaint me with
      developments I must have missed.
    </p>
    <p>
      But then a moment later came the call by telephone of Belknap-Jackson. I
      answered it, though with little hope than to hear more of his unending
      complaints about his lordship&rsquo;s negligence. Startled instantly I was,
      however, for his voice was stranger than I had known it even in moments of
      his acutest distress. Hoarse it was, and his words alarming but hardly
      intelligible.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Heard?&mdash;My God!&mdash;Heard?&mdash;My God!&mdash;Marriage! Marriage!
      God!&rdquo; But here he broke off into the most appalling laughter&mdash;the
      blood-curdling laughter of a chained patient in a mad-house. Hardly could
      I endure it and grateful I was when I heard the line close. Even when he
      attempted vocables he had sounded quite like an inferior record on a
      phonographic machine. But I had heard enough to leave me aghast. Beyond
      doubt now the very worst had come upon our family. His lordship&rsquo;s
      tremendous sacrifice would have been all in vain. Marriage! The Honourable
      George was done for. Better had it been the typing-girl, I bitterly
      reflected. Her father had at least been a curate!
    </p>
    <p>
      Thankful enough I now was for the luncheon-hour rush: I could distract
      myself from the appalling disaster. That day I took rather more than my
      accustomed charge of the serving. I chatted with our business chaps,
      recommending the joint in the highest terms; drawing corks; seeing that
      the relish was abundantly stocked at every table. I was striving to
      forget.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mrs. Judson alone persisted in reminding me of the impending scandal. &ldquo;A
      prince in his palace,&rdquo; she would maliciously murmur as I encountered her.
      I think she must have observed that I was bitter, for she at last spoke
      quite amiably of our morning&rsquo;s dust-up.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You certainly got my goat,&rdquo; she said in the quaint American fashion,
      &ldquo;telling me little No-no was too fat. You had me going there for a minute,
      thinking you meant it!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The creature&rsquo;s name was Albert, yet she persisted in calling it &ldquo;No-no,&rdquo;
       because the child itself would thus falsely declare its name upon being
      questioned, having in some strange manner gained this impression. It was
      another matter I meant to bring to her attention, but at this crisis I had
      no heart for it.
    </p>
    <p>
      My crowd left. I was again alone to muse bitterly upon our plight. Still I
      scanned the street, hoping for a sight of Cousin Egbert, who, I fancied,
      would be informed as to the wretched details. Instead, now, I saw the
      Honourable George. He walked on the opposite side of the thoroughfare, his
      manner of dejection precisely what I should have expected. Followed
      closely as usual he was by the Judson cur. A spirit of desperate mockery
      seized me. I called to Mrs. Judson, who was gathering glasses from a
      table. I indicated the pair.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Mr. Barker,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;is dogging his footsteps.&rdquo; I mean to say, I uttered
      the words in the most solemn manner. Little the woman knew that one may
      often be moved in the most distressing moments to a jest of this sort. She
      laughed heartily, being of quick discernment. And thus jauntily did I
      carry my knowledge of the lowering cloud. But I permitted myself no
      further sallies of that sort. I stayed expectantly by the window, and I
      dare say my bearing would have deceived the most alert. I was steadily
      calm. The situation called precisely for that.
    </p>
    <p>
      The hours sped darkly and my fears mounted. In sheer desperation, at
      length, I had myself put through to Belknap-Jackson. To my astonishment he
      seemed quite revived, though in a state of feverish gayety. He fair
      bubbled.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Just leaving this moment with his lordship to gather up some friends. We
      meet at your place. Yes, yes&mdash;all the uncertainty is past. Better set
      up that largest table&mdash;rather a celebration.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Almost more confusing it was than his former message, which had been
      confined to calls upon his Maker and to maniac laughter. Was he, I
      wondered, merely making the best of it? Had he resolved to be a dead
      sportsman? A few moments later he discharged his lordship at my door and
      drove rapidly on. (Only a question of time it is when he will be had
      heavily for damages due to his reckless driving.)
    </p>
    <p>
      His lordship bustled in with a cheerfulness that staggered me. He, too,
      was gay; almost debonair. A gardenia was in his lapel. He was vogue to the
      last detail in a form-fitting gray morning-suit that had all the style
      essentials. Almost it seemed as if three valets had been needed to groom
      him. He briskly rubbed his hands.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Biggest table&mdash;people. Tea, that sort of thing. Have a go of
      champagne, too, what, what! Beard off, much younger appearing? Of course,
      course! Trust women, those matters. Tea cake, toast, crumpets, marmalade&mdash;things
      like that. Plenty champagne! Not happen every day! Ha! ha!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      To my acute distress he here thumbed me in the ribs and laughed again. Was
      he, too, I wondered, madly resolved to be a dead sportsman in the face of
      the unavoidable? I sought to edge in a discreet word of condolence, for I
      knew that between us there need be no pretence.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I know you did your best, sir,&rdquo; I observed. &ldquo;And I was never quite free
      of a fear that the woman would prove too many for us. I trust the
      Honourable George&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      But I had said as much as he would let me. He interrupted me with his
      thumb again, and on his face was what in a lesser person I should
      unhesitatingly have called a leer.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You dog, you! Woman prove too many for us, what, what! Dare say you knew
      what to expect. Silly old George! Though how she could ever have fancied
      the juggins&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I was about to remark that the creature had of course played her game from
      entirely sordid motives and I should doubtless have ventured to applaud
      the game spirit in which he was taking the blow. But before I could shape
      my phrases on this delicate ground Mrs. Effie, the Senator, and Cousin
      Egbert arrived. They somewhat formally had the air of being expected. All
      of them rushed upon his lordship with an excessive manner. Apparently they
      were all to be dead sportsmen together. And then Mrs. Effie called me
      aside.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You can do me a favour,&rdquo; she began. &ldquo;About the wedding breakfast and
      reception. Dear Kate&rsquo;s place is so small. It wouldn&rsquo;t do. There will be a
      crush, of course. I&rsquo;ve had the loveliest idea for it&mdash;our own house.
      You know how delighted we&rsquo;d be. The Earl has been so charming and
      everything has turned out so splendidly. Oh, I&rsquo;d love to do them this
      little parting kindness. Use your influence like a good fellow, won&rsquo;t you,
      when the thing is suggested?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Only too gladly,&rdquo; I responded, sick at heart, and she returned to the
      group. Well I knew her motive. She was by way of getting even with the
      Belknap-Jacksons. As Cousin Egbert in his American fashion would put it,
      she was trying to pass them a bison. But I was willing enough she should
      house the dreadful affair. The more private the better, thought I.
    </p>
    <p>
      A moment later Belknap-Jackson&rsquo;s car appeared at my door, now discharging
      the Klondike woman, effusively escorted by the Mixer and by Mrs.
      Belknap-Jackson. The latter at least, I had thought, would show more
      principle. But she had buckled atrociously, quite as had her husband, who
      had quickly, almost merrily, followed them. There was increased gayety as
      they seated themselves about the large table, a silly noise of pretended
      felicitation over a calamity that not even the tenth Earl of Brinstead had
      been able to avert. And then Belknap-Jackson beckoned me aside.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I want your help, old chap, in case it&rsquo;s needed,&rdquo; he began.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The wedding breakfast and reception?&rdquo; I said quite cynically.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve thought of it? Good! Her own place is far too small. Crowd, of
      course. And it&rsquo;s rather proper at our place, too, his lordship having been
      our house guest. You see? Use what influence you have. The affair will be
      rather widely commented on&mdash;even the New York papers, I dare say.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Count upon me,&rdquo; I answered blandly, even as I had promised Mrs. Effie.
      Disgusted I was. Let them maul each other about over the wretched
      &ldquo;honour.&rdquo; They could all be dead sports if they chose, but I was now
      firmly resolved that for myself I should make not a bit of pretence. The
      creature might trick poor George into a marriage, but I for one would not
      affect to regard it as other than a blight upon our house. I was just on
      the point of hoping that the victim himself might have cut off to unknown
      parts when I saw him enter. By the other members of the party he was
      hailed with cries of delight, though his own air was finely honest, being
      dejected in the extreme. He was dressed as regrettably as usual, this time
      in parts of two lounge-suits.
    </p>
    <p>
      As he joined those at the table I constrained myself to serve the
      champagne. Senator Floud arose with a brimming glass.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;My friends,&rdquo; he began in his public-speaking manner, &ldquo;let us remember
      that Red Gap&rsquo;s loss is England&rsquo;s gain&mdash;to the future Countess of
      Brinstead!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      To my astonishment this appalling breach of good taste was received with
      the loudest applause, nor was his lordship the least clamorous of them. I
      mean to say, the chap had as good as wished that his lordship would
      directly pop off. It was beyond me. I walked to the farthest window and
      stood a long time gazing pensively out; I wished to be away from that
      false show. But they noticed my absence at length and called to me.
      Monstrously I was desired to drink to the happiness of the groom. I
      thought they were pressing me too far, but as they quite gabbled now with
      their tea and things, I hoped to pass it off. The Senator, however, seemed
      to fasten me with his eye as he proposed the toast&mdash;&ldquo;To the happy
      man!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I drank perforce.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A body would think Bill was drinking to the Judge,&rdquo; remarked Cousin
      Egbert in a high voice.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Eh?&rdquo; I said, startled to this outburst by his strange words.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Good old George!&rdquo; exclaimed his lordship. &ldquo;Owe it all to the old juggins,
      what, what!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The Klondike person spoke. I heard her voice as a bell pealing through
      breakers at sea. I mean to say, I was now fair dazed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Not to old George,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;To old Ruggles!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;To old Ruggles!&rdquo; promptly cried the Senator, and they drank.
    </p>
    <p>
      Muddled indeed I was. Again in my eventful career I felt myself tremble; I
      knew not what I should say, any <i>savoir faire</i> being quite gone. I
      had received a crumpler of some sort&mdash;but what <i>sort?</i>
    </p>
    <p>
      My sleeve was touched. I turned blindly, as in a nightmare. The Hobbs cub
      who was my vestiare was handing me our evening paper. I took it from him,
      staring&mdash;staring until my knees grew weak. Across the page in clarion
      type rang the unbelievable words:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
    BRITISH PEER WINS AMERICAN BRIDE

    His Lordship Tenth Earl of Brinstead to Wed One of Red Gap&rsquo;s
    Fairest Daughters
</pre>
    <p>
      My hands so shook that in quick subterfuge I dropped the sheet, then
      stooped for it, trusting to control myself before I again raised my face.
      Mercifully the others were diverted by the journal. It was seized from me,
      passed from hand to hand, the incredible words read aloud by each in turn.
      They jested of it!
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Amazing chaps, your pressmen!&rdquo; Thus the tenth Earl of Brinstead, while I
      pinched myself viciously to bring back my lost aplomb. &ldquo;Speedy beggars,
      what, what! Never knew it myself till last night. She would and she
      wouldn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I think you knew,&rdquo; said the lady. Stricken as I was I noted that she eyed
      him rather strangely, quite as if she felt some decent respect for him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Marriage is serious,&rdquo; boomed the Mixer.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t blame her, don&rsquo;t blame her&mdash;swear I don&rsquo;t!&rdquo; returned his
      lordship. &ldquo;Few days to think it over&mdash;quite right, quite right. Got
      to know their own minds, my word!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      While their attention was thus mercifully diverted from me, my own world
      by painful degrees resumed its stability. I mean to say, I am not the
      fainting sort, but if I were, then I should have keeled over at my first
      sight of that journal. But now I merely recovered my glass of champagne
      and drained it. Rather pigged it a bit, I fancy. Badly needing a stimulant
      I was, to be sure.
    </p>
    <p>
      They now discussed details: the ceremony&mdash;that sort of thing.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Before a registrar, quickest way,&rdquo; said his lordship.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Nonsense! Church, of course!&rdquo; rumbled the Mixer very arbitrarily.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Quite so, then,&rdquo; assented his lordship. &ldquo;Get me the rector of the parish&mdash;a
      vicar, a curate, something of that sort.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Then the breakfast and reception,&rdquo; suggested Mrs. Effie with a meaning
      glance at me before she turned to the lady. &ldquo;Of course, dearest, your own
      tiny nest would never hold your host of friends&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve never noticed,&rdquo; said the other quickly. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s always seemed big
      enough,&rdquo; she added in pensive tones and with downcast eyes.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Oh, not large enough by half,&rdquo; put in Belknap-Jackson, &ldquo;Most charming
      little home-nook but worlds too small for all your well-wishers.&rdquo; With a
      glance at me he narrowed his eyes in friendly calculation. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m somewhat
      puzzled myself&mdash;Suppose we see what the capable Ruggles has to
      suggest.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Let Ruggles suggest something by all means!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Effie.
    </p>
    <p>
      I mean to say, they both quite thought they knew what I would suggest, but
      it was nothing of the sort. The situation had entirely changed. Quite
      another sort of thing it was. Quickly I resolved to fling them both aside.
      I, too, would be a dead sportsman.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I was about to suggest,&rdquo; I remarked, &ldquo;that my place here is the only one
      at all suitable for the breakfast and reception. I can promise that the
      affair will go off smartly.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The two had looked up with such radiant expectation at my opening words
      and were so plainly in a state at my conclusion that I dare say the future
      Countess of Brinstead at once knew what. She flashed them a look, then
      eyed me with quick understanding.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Great!&rdquo; she exclaimed in a hearty American manner. &ldquo;Then that&rsquo;s settled,&rdquo;
       she continued briskly, as both Belknap-Jackson and Mrs. Effie would have
      interposed &ldquo;Ruggles shall do everything: take it off our shoulders&mdash;ices,
      flowers, invitations.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The invitation list will need great care, of course,&rdquo; remarked
      Belknap-Jackson with a quite savage glance at me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But you just called him &lsquo;the capable Ruggles,&rsquo;&rdquo; insisted the fiancée. &ldquo;We
      shall leave it all to him. How many will you ask, Ruggles?&rdquo; Her eyes
      flicked from mine to Belknap-Jackson.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Quite almost every one,&rdquo; I answered firmly.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Fine!&rdquo; she said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ripping!&rdquo; said his lordship.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;His lordship will of course wish a best man,&rdquo; suggested Belknap-Jackson.
      &ldquo;I should be only too glad&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You&rsquo;re going to suggest Ruggles again!&rdquo; cried the lady. &ldquo;Just the man for
      it! You&rsquo;re quite right. Why, we owe it all to Ruggles, don&rsquo;t we?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      She here beamed upon his lordship. Belknap-Jackson wore an expression of
      the keenest disrelish.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Of course, course!&rdquo; replied his lordship. &ldquo;Dashed good man, Ruggles! Owe
      it all to him, what, what!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I fancy in the cordial excitement of the moment he was quite sincere. As
      to her ladyship, I am to this day unable to still a faint suspicion that
      she was having me on. True, she owed it all to me. But I hadn&rsquo;t a bit
      meant it and well she knew it. Subtle she was, I dare say, but bore me no
      malice, though she was not above setting Belknap-Jackson back a pace or
      two each time he moved up.
    </p>
    <p>
      A final toast was drunk and my guests drifted out. Belknap-Jackson again
      glared savagely at me as he went, but Mrs. Effie rather outglared him.
      Even I should hardly have cared to face her at that moment.
    </p>
    <p>
      And I was still in a high state of muddle. It was all beyond me. Had his
      lordship, I wondered, too seriously taken my careless words about American
      equality? Of course I had meant them to apply only to those stopping on in
      the States.
    </p>
    <p>
      Cousin Egbert lingered to the last, rather with a troubled air of wishing
      to consult me. When I at length came up with him he held the journal
      before me, indicating lines in the article&mdash;&ldquo;relict of an Alaskan
      capitalist, now for some years one of Red Gap&rsquo;s social favourites.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Read that there,&rdquo; he commanded grimly. Then with a terrific earnestness I
      had never before remarked in him: &ldquo;Say, listen here! I better go round
      right off and mix it up with that fresh guy. What&rsquo;s he hinting around at
      by that there word &lsquo;relict&rsquo;? Why, say, she was married to him&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I hastily corrected his preposterous interpretation of the word, much to
      his relief.
    </p>
    <p>
      I was still in my precious state of muddle. Mrs. Judson took occasion to
      flounce by me in her work of clearing the table.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A prince in his palace,&rdquo; she taunted. I laughed in a lofty manner.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Why, you poor thing, I&rsquo;ve known it all for some days,&rdquo; I said.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Well, I must say you&rsquo;re the deep one if you did&mdash;never letting on!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      She was unable to repress a glance of admiration at me as she moved off.
    </p>
    <p>
      I stood where she had left me, meditating profoundly.
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a>
    </p>
    <div style="height: 4em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>
    <h2>
      CHAPTER TWENTY
    </h2>
    <p>
      Two days later at high noon was solemnized the marriage of his lordship to
      the woman who, without a bit meaning it, I had so curiously caused to
      enter his life. The day was for myself so crowded with emotions that it
      returns in rather a jumble: patches of incidents, little floating clouds
      of memory; some meaningless and one at least to be significant to my last
      day.
    </p>
    <p>
      The ceremony was had in our most nearly smart church. It was only a
      Methodist church, but I took pains to assure myself that a ceremony
      performed by its curate would be legal. I still seem to hear the organ,
      strains of &ldquo;The Voice That Breathed Through Eden,&rdquo; as we neared the altar;
      also the Mixer&rsquo;s rumbling whisper about a lost handkerchief which she
      apparently found herself needing at that moment.
    </p>
    <p>
      The responses of bride and groom were unhesitating, even firm. Her
      ladyship, I thought, had never appeared to better advantage than in the
      pearl-tinted lustreless going-away gown she had chosen. As always, she had
      finely known what to put on her head.
    </p>
    <p>
      Senator Floud, despite Belknap-Jackson&rsquo;s suggestion of himself for the
      office, had been selected to give away the bride, as the saying is. He
      performed his function with dignity, though I recall being seized with
      horror when the moment came; almost certain I am he restrained himself
      with difficulty from making a sort of a speech.
    </p>
    <p>
      The church was thronged. I had seen to that. I had told her ladyship that
      I should ask quite almost every one, and this I had done, squarely in the
      face of Belknap-Jackson&rsquo;s pleading that discretion be used. For a great
      white light, as one might say, had now suffused me. I had seen that the
      moment was come when the warring factions of Red Gap should be reunited. A
      Bismarck I felt myself, indeed. That I acted ably was later to be seen.
    </p>
    <p>
      Even for the wedding breakfast, which occurred directly after the
      ceremony, I had shown myself a dictator in the matter of guests. Covers
      were laid in my room for seventy and among these were included not only
      the members of the North Side set and the entire Bohemian set, but many
      worthy persons not hitherto socially existent yet who had been friends or
      well-wishers of the bride.
    </p>
    <p>
      I am persuaded to confess that in a few of these instances I was not above
      a snarky little wish to correct the social horizon of Belknap-Jackson; to
      make it more broadly accord, as I may say, with the spirit of American
      equality for which their forefathers bled and died on the battlefields of
      Boston, New York, and Vicksburg.
    </p>
    <p>
      Not the least of my reward, then, was to see his eyebrows more than once
      eloquently raise, as when the cattle-persons, Hank and Buck, appeared in
      suits of decent black, or when the driver chap Pierce entered with his
      quite obscure mother on his arm, or a few other cattle and horse persons
      with whom the Honourable George had palled up during his process of going
      in for America.
    </p>
    <p>
      This laxity I felt that the Earl of Brinstead and his bride could amply
      afford, while for myself I had soundly determined that Red Gap should
      henceforth be without &ldquo;sets.&rdquo; I mean to say, having frankly taken up
      America, I was at last resolved to do it whole-heartedly. If I could not
      take up the whole of it, I would not take up a part. Quite instinctively I
      had chosen the slogan of our Chamber of Commerce: &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t Knock&mdash;Boost;
      and Boost Altogether.&rdquo; Rudely worded though it is, I had seen it to be
      sound in spirit.
    </p>
    <p>
      These thoughts ran in my mind during the smart repast that now followed.
      Insidiously I wrought among the guests to amalgamate into one friendly
      whole certain elements that had hitherto been hostile. The Bohemian set
      was not segregated. Almost my first inspiration had been to scatter its
      members widely among the conservative pillars of the North Side set. Left
      in one group, I had known they would plume themselves quite intolerably
      over the signal triumph of their leader; perhaps, in the American speech,
      &ldquo;start something.&rdquo; Widely scattered, they became mere parts of the whole I
      was seeking to achieve.
    </p>
    <p>
      The banquet progressed gayly to its finish. Toasts were drunk no end, all
      of them proposed by Senator Floud who, toward the last, kept almost
      constantly on his feet. From the bride and groom he expanded
      geographically through Red Gap, the Kulanche Valley, the State of
      Washington, and the United States to the British Empire, not omitting the
      Honourable George&mdash;who, I noticed, called for the relish and consumed
      quite almost an entire bottle during the meal. Also I was proposed&mdash;&ldquo;through
      whose lifelong friendship for the illustrious groom this meeting of hearts
      and hands has been so happily brought about.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Her ladyship&rsquo;s eyes rested briefly upon mine as her lips touched the glass
      to this. They conveyed the unspeakable. Rather a fool I felt, and unable
      to look away until she released me. She had been wondrously quiet through
      it all. Not dazed in the least, as might have been looked for in one of
      her lowly station thus prodigiously elevated; and not feverishly gay, as
      might also have been anticipated. Simple and quiet she was, showing a
      complete but perfectly controlled awareness of her position.
    </p>
    <p>
      For the first time then, I think, I did envision her as the Countess of
      Brinstead. She was going to carry it off. Perhaps quite as well as even I
      could have wished his lordship&rsquo;s chosen mate to do. I observed her look at
      his lordship with those strange lights in her eyes, as if only half
      realizing yet wholly believing all that he believed. And once at the
      height of the gayety I saw her reach out to touch his sleeve, furtively,
      swiftly, and so gently he never knew.
    </p>
    <p>
      It occurred to me there were things about the woman we had taken too
      little trouble to know. I wondered what old memories might be coming to
      her now; what staring faces might obtrude, what old, far-off, perhaps
      hated, voices might be sounding to her; what of remembered hurts and
      heartaches might newly echo back to make her flinch and wonder if she
      dreamed. She touched the sleeve again, as it might have been in protection
      from them, her eyes narrowed, her gaze fixed. It queerly occurred to me
      that his lordship might find her as difficult to know as we had&mdash;and
      yet would keep always trying more than we had, to be sure. I mean to say,
      she was no gabbler.
    </p>
    <p>
      The responses to the Senator&rsquo;s toasts increased in volume. His final
      flight, I recall, involved terms like &ldquo;our blood-cousins of the British
      Isles,&rdquo; and introduced a figure of speech about &ldquo;hands across the sea,&rdquo;
       which I thought striking, indeed. The applause aroused by this was noisy
      in the extreme, a number of the cattle and horse persons, including the
      redskin Tuttle, emitting a shrill, concerted &ldquo;yipping&rdquo; which, though it
      would never have done with us, seemed somehow not out of place in North
      America, although I observed Belknap-Jackson to make gestures of extreme
      repugnance while it lasted.
    </p>
    <p>
      There ensued a rather flurried wishing of happiness to the pair. A novel
      sight it was, the most austere matrons of the North Side set vying for
      places in the line that led past them. I found myself trying to analyze
      the inner emotions of some of them I best knew as they fondly greeted the
      now radiant Countess of Brinstead. But that way madness lay, as
      Shakespeare has so aptly said of another matter. I recalled, though, the
      low-toned comment of Cousin Egbert, who stood near me.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t them dames stand the gaff noble!&rdquo; It was quite true. They were
      heroic. I recalled then his other quaint prophecy that her ladyship would
      hand them a bottle of lemonade. As is curiously usual with this simple
      soul, he had gone to the heart of the matter.
    </p>
    <p>
      The throng dwindled to the more intimate friends. Among those who lingered
      were the Belknap-Jacksons and Mrs. Effie. Quite solicitous they were for
      the &ldquo;dear Countess,&rdquo; as they rather defiantly called her to one another.
      Belknap-Jackson casually mentioned in my hearing that he had been asked to
      Chaynes-Wotten for the shooting. Mrs. Effie, who also heard, swiftly
      remarked that she would doubtless run over in the spring&mdash;the dear
      Earl was so insistent. They rather glared at each other. But in truth his
      lordship had insisted that quite almost every one should come and stop on
      with him.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Of course, course, what, what! Jolly party, no end of fun. Week-end, that
      sort of thing. Know she&rsquo;ll like her old friends best. Wouldn&rsquo;t be keen for
      the creature if she&rsquo;d not. Have &lsquo;em all, have &lsquo;em all. Capital, by Jove!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      To be sure it was a manner of speaking, born of the expansive good feeling
      of the moment. Yet I believe Cousin Egbert was the only invited one to
      decline. He did so with evident distress at having to refuse.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I like your little woman a whole lot,&rdquo; he observed to his lordship, &ldquo;but
      Europe is too kind of uncomfortable for me; keeps me upset all the time,
      what with all the foreigners and one thing and another. But, listen here,
      Cap! You pack the little woman back once in a while. Just to give us a
      flash at her. We&rsquo;ll give you both a good time.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What ho!&rdquo; returned his lordship. &ldquo;Of course, course! Fancy we&rsquo;d like it
      vastly, what, what!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir, I fancy you would, too,&rdquo; and rather startlingly Cousin Egbert
      seized her ladyship and kissed her heartily. Whereupon her ladyship kissed
      the fellow in return.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Yes, sir, I dare say I fancy you would,&rdquo; he called back a bit nervously
      as he left.
    </p>
    <p>
      Belknap-Jackson drove the party to the station, feeling, I am sure, that
      he scored over Mrs. Effie, though he was obliged to include the Mixer,
      from whom her ladyship bluntly refused to be separated. I inferred that
      she must have found the time and seclusion in which to weep a bit on the
      Mixer&rsquo;s shoulder. The waist of the latter&rsquo;s purple satin gown was quite
      spotty at the height of her ladyship&rsquo;s eyes.
    </p>
    <p>
      Belknap-Jackson on this occasion drove his car with the greatest
      solicitude, proceeding more slowly than I had ever known him do. As I
      attended to certain luggage details at the station he was regretting to
      his lordship that they had not had a longer time at the country club the
      day it was exhibited.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Look a bit after silly old George,&rdquo; said his lordship to me at parting.
      &ldquo;Chap&rsquo;s dotty, I dare say. Talking about a plantation of apple trees now.
      For his old age&mdash;that sort of thing. Be something new in a fortnight,
      though. Like him, of course, course!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      Her ladyship closed upon my hand with a remarkable vigour of grip.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;We owe it all to you,&rdquo; she said, again with dancing eyes. Then her eyes
      steadied queerly. &ldquo;Maybe you won&rsquo;t be sorry.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Know I shan&rsquo;t.&rdquo; I fancy I rather growled it, stupidly feeling I was not
      rising to the occasion. &ldquo;Knew his lordship wouldn&rsquo;t rest till he had you
      where he wanted you. Glad he&rsquo;s got you.&rdquo; And curiously I felt a bit of a
      glad little squeeze in my throat for her. I groped for something light&mdash;something
      American.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You are some Countess,&rdquo; I at last added in a silly way.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;What, what!&rdquo; said his lordship, but I had caught her eyes. They brimmed
      with understanding.
    </p>
    <p>
      With the going of that train all life seemed to go. I mean to say, things
      all at once became flat. I turned to the dull station.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Give you a lift, old chap,&rdquo; said Belknap-Jackson. Again he was cordial.
      So firmly had I kept the reins of the whole affair in my grasp, such
      prestige he knew it would give me, he dared not broach his grievance.
    </p>
    <p>
      Some half-remembered American phrase of Cousin Egbert&rsquo;s ran in my mind. I
      had put a buffalo on him!
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m needing a bit of a stretch and a breeze-out.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I wished to walk that I might the better meditate. With Belknap-Jackson
      one does not sufficiently meditate.
    </p>
    <p>
      A block up from the station I was struck by the sight of the Honourable
      George. Plodding solitary down that low street he was, heeled as usual by
      the Judson cur. He came to the Spilmer public house and for a moment
      stared up, quite still, at the &ldquo;Last Chance&rdquo; on its chaffing signboard.
      Then he wheeled abruptly and entered. I was moved to follow him, but I
      knew it would never do. He would row me about the service of the Grill&mdash;something
      of that sort. I dare say he had fancied her ladyship as keenly as one of
      his volatile nature might. But I knew him!
    </p>
    <p>
      Back on our street the festival atmosphere still lingered. Groups of
      recent guests paused to discuss the astounding event. The afternoon paper
      was being scanned by many of them. An account of the wedding was its
      &ldquo;feature,&rdquo; as they say. I had no heart for that, but on the second page my
      eye caught a minor item:
    </p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
    &ldquo;A special meeting of the Ladies Onwards and Upwards Club is
    called for to-morrow afternoon at two sharp at the residence
    of Mrs. Dr. Percy Hailey Martingale, for the transaction of
    important business.&rdquo;
 </pre>
    <p>
      One could fancy, I thought, what the meeting would discuss. Nor was I
      wrong, for I may here state that the evening paper of the following day
      disclosed that her ladyship the Countess of Brinstead had unanimously been
      elected to a life honorary membership in the club.
    </p>
    <p>
      Back in the Grill I found the work of clearing the tables well advanced,
      and very soon its before-dinner aspect of calm waiting was restored.
      Surveying it I reflected that one might well wonder if aught momentous had
      indeed so lately occurred here. A motley day it had been.
    </p>
    <p>
      I passed into the linen and glass pantry.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mrs. Judson, polishing my glassware, burst into tears at my approach,
      frankly stanching them with her towel. I saw it to be a mere overflow of
      the meaningless emotion that women stock so abundantly on the occasion of
      a wedding. She is an almost intensely feminine person, as can be seen at
      once by any one who understands women. In a goods box in the passage
      beyond I noted her nipper fast asleep, a mammoth beef-rib clasped to its
      fat chest. I debated putting this abuse to her once more but feared the
      moment was not propitious. She dried her eyes and smiled again.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A prince in his palace,&rdquo; she murmured inanely. &ldquo;She thought first he was
      going to be as funny as the other one; then she found he wasn&rsquo;t. I liked
      him, too. I didn&rsquo;t blame her a bit. He&rsquo;s one of that kind&mdash;his bark&rsquo;s
      worse than his bite. And to think you knew all the time what was coming
      off. My, but you&rsquo;re the Mr. Deep-one!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I saw no reason to stultify myself by denying this. I mean to say, if she
      thought it, let her!
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;The last thing yesterday she gave me this dress.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      I had already noted the very becoming dull blue house gown she wore. Quite
      with an air she carried it. To be sure, it was not suitable to her duties.
      The excitements of the day, I suppose, had rendered me a bit sterner than
      is my wont. Perhaps a little authoritative.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;A handsome gown,&rdquo; I replied icily, &ldquo;but one would hardly choose it for
      the work you are performing.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Rubbish!&rdquo; she retorted plainly. &ldquo;I wanted to look nice&mdash;I had to go
      in there lots of times. And I wanted to be dressed for to-night.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Why to-night, may I ask?&rdquo; I was all at once uncomfortably curious.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Why, the boys are coming for me. They&rsquo;re going to take No-no home, then
      we&rsquo;re all going to the movies. They&rsquo;ve got a new bill at the Bijou, and
      Buck Edwards especially wants me to see it. One of the cowboys in it that
      does some star riding looks just like Buck&mdash;wavy chestnut hair. Buck
      himself is one of the best riders in the whole Kulanche.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The woman seemed to have some fiendish power to enrage me. As she prattled
      thus, her eyes demurely on the glass she dried, I felt a deep flush mantle
      my brow. She could never have dreamed that she had this malign power, but
      she was now at least to suspect it.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Your Mr. Edwards,&rdquo; I began calmly enough, &ldquo;may be like the cinema actor:
      the two may be as like each other as makes no difference&mdash;but you are
      not going.&rdquo; I was aware that the latter phrase was heated where I had
      merely meant it to be impressive. Dignified firmness had been the line I
      intended, but my rage was mounting. She stared at me. Astonished beyond
      words she was, if I can read human expressions.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I am!&rdquo; she snapped at last.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You are not!&rdquo; I repeated, stepping a bit toward her. I was conscious of a
      bit of the rowdy in my manner, but I seemed powerless to prevent it. All
      my culture was again but the flimsiest veneer.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I am, too!&rdquo; she again said, though plainly dismayed.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No!&rdquo; I quite thundered it, I dare say. &ldquo;No, no! No, no!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      The nipper cried out from his box. Not until later did it occur to me that
      he had considered himself to be addressed in angry tones.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; I thundered again. I couldn&rsquo;t help myself, though silly rot I
      call it now. And then to my horror the mother herself began to weep.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I will!&rdquo; she sobbed. &ldquo;I will! I will! I will!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; I insisted, and I found myself seizing her shoulders, not
      knowing if I mightn&rsquo;t shake her smartly, so drawn-out had the woman got
      me; and still I kept shouting my senseless &ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; at which the nipper
      was now yelling.
    </p>
    <p>
      She struggled her best as I clutched her, but I seemed to have the
      strength of a dozen men; the woman was nothing in my grasp, and my arms
      were taking their blind rage out on her.
    </p>
    <p>
      Secure I held her, and presently she no longer struggled, and I was
      curiously no longer angry, but found myself soothing her in many strange
      ways. I mean to say, the passage between us had fallen to be of the very
      shockingly most sentimental character.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;You are so masterful!&rdquo; she panted.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have my own way,&rdquo; I threatened; &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve told you often enough.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Oh, you&rsquo;re so domineering!&rdquo; she murmured. I dare say I am a bit that way.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll show you who&rsquo;s to be master!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;But I never dreamed you meant this,&rdquo; she answered. True, I had most
      brutally taken her by surprise. I could easily see how, expecting nothing
      of the faintest sort, she had been rudely shocked.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I meant it all along,&rdquo; I said firmly, &ldquo;from the very first moment.&rdquo; And
      now again she spoke in almost awed tones of my &ldquo;deepness.&rdquo; I have never
      believed in that excessive intuition which is so widely boasted for woman.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;I never dreamed of it,&rdquo; she said again, and added: &ldquo;Mrs. Kenner and I
      were talking about this dress only last night and I said&mdash;I never,
      never dreamed of such a thing!&rdquo; She broke off with sudden inconsequence,
      as women will.
    </p>
    <p>
      We had now to quiet the nipper in his box. I saw even then that,
      domineering though I may be, I should probably never care to bring the
      child&rsquo;s condition to her notice again. There was something about her&mdash;something
      volcanic in her femininity. I knew it would never do. Better let the thing
      continue to be a monstrosity! I might, unnoticed, of course, snatch a bun
      from its grasp now and then.
    </p>
    <p>
      Our evening rush came and went quite as if nothing had happened. I may
      have been rather absent, reflecting pensively. I mean to say, I had at
      times considered this alliance as a dawning possibility, but never had I
      meant to be sudden. Only for the woman&rsquo;s remarkably stubborn obtuseness I
      dare say the understanding might have been deferred to a more suitable
      moment and arranged in a calm and orderly manner. But the die was cast.
      Like his lordship, I had chosen an American bride&mdash;taken her by storm
      and carried her off her feet before she knew it. We English are often that
      way.
    </p>
    <p>
      At ten o&rsquo;clock we closed the Grill upon a day that had been historic in
      the truest sense of the word. I shouldered the sleeping nipper. He still
      passionately clutched the beef-rib and for some reason I felt averse to
      depriving him of it, even though it would mean a spotty top-coat.
    </p>
    <p>
      Strangely enough, we talked but little in our walk. It seemed rather too
      tremendous to talk of.
    </p>
    <p>
      When I gave the child into her arms at the door it had become half awake.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ruggums!&rdquo; it muttered sleepily.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ruggums!&rdquo; echoed the mother, and again, very softly in the still night:
      &ldquo;Ruggums&mdash;Ruggums!&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <p>
      That in the few months since that rather agreeable night I have acquired
      the title of Red Gap&rsquo;s social dictator cannot be denied. More than one
      person of discernment may now be heard to speak of my &ldquo;reign,&rdquo; though
      this, of course, is coming it a bit thick.
    </p>
    <p>
      The removal by his lordship of one who, despite her sterling qualities,
      had been a source of discord, left the social elements of the town in a
      state of the wildest disorganization. And having for myself acquired a
      remarkable prestige from my intimate association with the affair, I
      promptly seized the reins and drew the scattered forces together.
    </p>
    <p>
      First, at an early day I sought an interview with Belknap-Jackson and Mrs.
      Effie and told them straight precisely why I had played them both false in
      the matter of the wedding breakfast. With the honour granted to either of
      them, I explained, I had foreseen another era of cliques, divisions, and
      acrimony. Therefore I had done the thing myself, as a measure of peace.
    </p>
    <p>
      Flatly then I declared my intention of reconciling all those formerly
      opposed elements and of creating a society in Red Gap that would be a
      social union in the finest sense of the word. I said that contact with
      their curious American life had taught me that their equality should be
      more than a name, and that, especially in the younger settlements, a
      certain relaxation from the rigid requirements of an older order is not
      only unavoidable but vastly to be desired. I meant to say, if we were
      going to be Americans it was silly rot trying to be English at the same
      time.
    </p>
    <p>
      I pointed out that their former social leaders had ever been inspired by
      the idea of exclusion; the soul of their leadership had been to cast
      others out; and that the campaign I planned was to be one of inclusion&mdash;even
      to the extent of Bohemians and well-behaved cattle-persons&mdash;-which I
      believed to be in the finest harmony with their North American theory of
      human association. It might be thought a naïve theory, I said, but so long
      as they had chosen it I should staunchly abide by it.
    </p>
    <p>
      I added what I dare say they did not believe: that the position of leader
      was not one I should cherish for any other reason than the public good.
      That when one better fitted might appear they would find me the first to
      rejoice.
    </p>
    <p>
      I need not say that I was interrupted frequently and acridly during this
      harangue, but I had given them both a buffalo and well they knew it. And I
      worked swiftly from that moment. I gave the following week the first of a
      series of subscription balls in the dancing hall above the Grill, and both
      Mrs. Belknap-Jackson and Mrs. Effie early enrolled themselves as
      patronesses, even after I had made it plain that I alone should name the
      guests.
    </p>
    <p>
      The success of the affair was all I could have wished. Red Gap had become
      a social unit. Nor was appreciation for my leadership wanting. There will
      be malcontents, I foresee, and from the informed inner circles I learn
      that I have already been slightingly spoken of as a foreigner wielding a
      sceptre over native-born Americans, but I have the support of quite all
      who really matter, and I am confident these rebellions may be put down by
      tact alone. It is too well understood by those who know me that I have
      Equality for my watchword.
    </p>
    <p>
      I mean to say, at the next ball of the series I may even see that the
      fellow Hobbs has a card if I can become assured that he has quite freed
      himself from certain debasing class-ideals of his native country. This to
      be sure is an extreme case, because the fellow is that type of our serving
      class to whom equality is unthinkable. They must, from their centuries of
      servility, look either up or down; and I scarce know in which attitude
      they are more offensive to our American point of view. Still I mean to be
      broad. Even Hobbs shall have his chance with us!
    </p>
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <hr />
    <p>
      <br /><br />
    </p>
    <p>
      It is late June. Mrs. Ruggles and I are comfortably installed in her
      enlarged and repaired house. We have a fowl-run on a stretch of her
      free-hold, and the kitchen-garden thrives under the care of the Japanese
      agricultural labourer I have employed.
    </p>
    <p>
      Already I have discharged more than half my debt to Cousin Egbert, who
      exclaims, &ldquo;Oh, shucks!&rdquo; each time I make him a payment. He and the
      Honourable George remain pally no end and spend much of their abundant
      leisure at Cousin Egbert&rsquo;s modest country house. At times when they are in
      town they rather consort with street persons, but such is the breadth of
      our social scheme that I shall never exclude them from our gayeties,
      though it is true that more often than not they decline to be present.
    </p>
    <p>
      Mrs. Ruggles, I may say, is a lady of quite amazing capacities combined
      strangely with the commonest feminine weaknesses. She has acute business
      judgment at most times, yet would fly at me in a rage if I were to say
      what I think of the nipper&rsquo;s appalling grossness. Quite naturally I do not
      push my unquestioned mastery to this extreme. There are other matters in
      which I amusedly let her have her way, though she fondly reminds me almost
      daily of my brutal self-will.
    </p>
    <p>
      On one point I have just been obliged to assert this. She came running to
      me with a suggestion for economizing in the manufacture of the relish. She
      had devised a cheaper formula. But I was firm.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;So long as the inventor&rsquo;s face is on that flask,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;its contents
      shall not be debased a tuppence. My name and face will guarantee its
      purity.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      She gave in nicely, merely declaring that I needn&rsquo;t growl like one of
      their bears with a painful foot.
    </p>
    <p>
      At my carefully mild suggestion she has just brought the nipper in from
      where he was cattying the young fowls, much to their detriment. But she is
      now heaping compote upon a slice of thickly buttered bread for him,
      glancing meanwhile at our evening newspaper.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;Ruggums always has his awful own way, doesn&rsquo;t ums?&rdquo; she remarks to the
      nipper.
    </p>
    <p>
      Deeply ignoring this, I resume my elocutionary studies of the Declaration
      of Independence. For I should say that a signal honour of a municipal
      character has just been done me. A committee of the Chamber of Commerce
      has invited me to participate in their exercises on an early day in July&mdash;the
      fourth, I fancy&mdash;when they celebrate the issuance of this famous
      document. I have been asked to read it, preceding a patriotic address to
      be made by Senator Floud.
    </p>
    <p>
      I accepted with the utmost pleasure, and now on my vine-sheltered porch
      have begun trying it out for the proper voice effects. Its substance, I
      need not say, is already familiar to me.
    </p>
    <p>
      The nipper is horribly gulping at its food, jam smears quite all about its
      countenance. Mrs. Ruggles glances over her journal.
    </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;How would you like it,&rdquo; she suddenly demands, &ldquo;if I went around town like
      these English women&mdash;burning churches and houses of Parliament and
      cutting up fine oil paintings. How would that suit your grouchy highness?&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;This is not England,&rdquo; I answer shortly. &ldquo;That sort of thing would never
      do with us.&rdquo;
     </p>
    <p>
      &ldquo;My, but isn&rsquo;t he the fierce old Ruggums!&rdquo; she cries in affected alarm to
      the now half-suffocated nipper.
    </p>
    <p>
      Once more I take up the Declaration of Independence. It lends itself
      rather well to reciting. I feel that my voice is going to carry.
    </p>
    <h3>
      THE END
    </h3>
    <div style="height: 6em;">
      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
    </div>







<pre>





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ruggles of Red Gap, by Harry Leon Wilson

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUGGLES OF RED GAP ***

***** This file should be named 9151-h.htm or 9151-h.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
        http://www.gutenberg.org/9/1/5/9151/


Text file produced by Suzanne L. Shell, Charles Franks and Distributed
Proofreaders

HTML file produced by David Widger


Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.

Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.



*** START: FULL LICENSE ***

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase &ldquo;Project
Gutenberg&rdquo;), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
  www.gutenberg.org/license.


Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works

1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B.  &ldquo;Project Gutenberg&rdquo; is a registered trademark.  It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.  See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (&ldquo;the Foundation&rdquo;
 or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.

1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase &ldquo;Project Gutenberg&rdquo; appears, or with which the phrase &ldquo;Project
Gutenberg&rdquo; is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase &ldquo;Project Gutenberg&rdquo; associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.

1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
&ldquo;Plain Vanilla ASCII&rdquo; or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original &ldquo;Plain Vanilla ASCII&rdquo; or other
form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that

- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
     address specified in Section 4, &ldquo;Information about donations to
     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.&rdquo;
 
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
     License.  You must require such a user to return or
     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
     Project Gutenberg-tm works.

- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
     of receipt of the work.

- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
&ldquo;Defects,&rdquo; such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.

1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the &ldquo;Right
of Replacement or Refund&rdquo; described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you &lsquo;AS-IS&rsquo;, WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.


Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm&rsquo;s
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org


Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service.  The Foundation&rsquo;s EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state&rsquo;s laws.

The Foundation&rsquo;s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at 809
North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887.  Email
contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the
Foundation&rsquo;s web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

For additional contact information:
     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
     Chief Executive and Director
     gbnewby@pglaf.org

Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
To donate, please visit:  www.gutenberg.org/donate


Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone.  For forty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:

     www.gutenberg.org

This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.



</pre>

  </body>
</html>
generated by cgit v1.2.3 (git 2.25.1) at 2026-02-06 04:31:08 +0000