“The moment he returns tell him that he is to take the small wagon and go back to the station at ten o'clock. The caterer has just 'phoned that he is sending the extra ices out on the last train, but that he cannot send another waiter. Jenkins, leaving the way he did, has upset everything. I suppose it is too late to get anybody now; the special car gets here at nine. What is that noise? It sounds like some one singing in the dining-room.” “It's the new furnace man, madam, that Mrs. Queerington sent. It looks like he can't keep himself quiet.” “I'll quiet him!” said Mrs. Sequin, who was as near irritation as full dress would permit. Phineas Flathers, having replenished the fire, was pausing a moment to admire himself in the Dutch mirror above the mantel when Mrs. Sequin startled him by inquiring peremptorily if he was the new man. “I am,” said Phineas with pronounced deference, “_the_ new man and _a_ new man. Regenerated, born again, mam, the spirit of evil having departed from me.” Mrs. Sequin gasped. “What is your name?” “Flathers, mam.” “Dreadful! I will call you Benson.” “Benson it is. Better men than me have changed their names. There was Saul now, Saul of Tarsus--” “Turn the drafts off in the furnace and don't come up-stairs again on any account. But no,--wait a moment.” Mrs. Sequin's keen eye swept him from head to foot. “Have you ever had any experience in serving?” Phineas, whose only claim to serving was that “they also serve who only stand and wait,” dropped his eyes. “Only the communion, mam, and the collection. But I ain't above lending a hand, mam. You'd do as much for me. I was just saying to the lady in the kitchen, that anybody was fortunate to work for a person with as generous a face as yours.” “Clean yourself up, and put on Jenkins' coat, and if another waiter is absolutely necessary, they can call on you,” directed Mrs. Sequin hurriedly, then calling to the maid, “Has Miss Margery come down yet?” “She's in the library, mam.” Margery, pale and listless, turned from the window as her mother entered. “I was just watching for Miss Lady,” she said; “it will be rather amusing to see her and Connie at their first big party.” “I hope she won't wear that childish dress she was married in. It is all right for Connie to affect white muslin and blue ribbons, but Cousin John's wife ought to wear something that makes her look older. Why, with that short gown, and the way she wears her hair, she looks like a schoolgirl!” “She looks very beautiful.”