Unfortunately, Eustace's habits had not been kept completely virtuous by his light duties with his mistress's tutor. The grinning black rascal had got himself pleasantly illuminated the first day, and had remained in that state with considerable consistency ever since. However, being kept excellently tipped, he had never failed to meet an appointment before; and Charles, eyeing the spot where Jehu should have been, but wasn't, was most unpleasantly struck with his own sense of helplessness ensuing. It really appeared that soft custom had made him as dependent on the limousine as if he lacked the means of locomoting for himself. He scanned the horizon. Many vehicles rolled up and down Washington Street, but his own swift chariot was nowhere among them. Then, while he irritably hesitated between telephoning to the garage, on the off chance that Eustace might be there, and tamely abandoning the enterprise once more, a third alternative, ingenious in its way, quite unexpectedly offered itself. Down the street came jogging a carriage for hire--empty. Providence seemed to be directing straight at him, Charles. And, by chance, he knew this old carriage well; Walter Taylor's carriage, it was; many and many a time had it driven him forth to parties when he was young and gay. On the first quick impulse, Charles went springing down the Choristers' steps. "Walter!... Here, you old rascal! Where're you going?" "At libbuty, suh!" cried Walter Taylor, drawing rein with alacrity. "Whar mout you wish to be druv, Mist' Garrott?" "Well!--Perhaps I'll let you--" The young man hesitated, fractionally, struck with the rattletrap's supreme lack of dignity. Then, with decision, he plucked open the weather-beaten door. "One seven East Center. And look sharp now!" he ordered, stepping in--"I'm in a hurry. Mind you don't stop for anything!" "Yassuh! Sutney, suh!" said Walter Taylor, with great enthusiasm, and gave his old nag a prodigious wallop. So it fell out that, for his first call at the Flowers' since the bridge-party--his party-call, his book-call, and his call about the Kiss--Charles Garrott fared forth in a closed livery hack.