‘I can’t help that. If driven into a corner, I will tell people that I’m a preceptor of youth, in fact a tutor, which is no more than the truth, because, you see, I’m teaching Will Hanover to play the fiddle, so that he’s my pupil and I’m his tutor.’ ‘But what made you choose such an outlandish name as Golightly?’ asked the other with a smile. ‘Because Golightly belongs to me, dear boy—it’s my own property. Know, good my lord, that my full name is Richard Golightly Dulcimer. My godfather was Dr Golightly, who’s now Bishop of Melminster. Many’s the tip I’ve had from him in the days when I wore a jacket and turn-down collar. But he wasn’t a bishop then, and my dad hadn’t lost his fortune, and things now in that quarter are by no means what they used to be.’ ‘I’ll not forget the name. And now I must go; I’m expecting an important letter. We shall meet later on.’ ‘For the present, ta, ta,’ said Mr Dulcimer. ‘Sly dog! Never said a word about his own little affair,’ muttered Dick. ‘Intolerably slow work waiting here. I wonder how much longer they’ll be? Ha! happy thought.—Hi!’ The last exclamatory remark was addressed to a waiter who was in the act of removing an empty bottle and some glasses from a garden-table a little way off. Up came the waiter, a smiling, little, bullet-headed fellow, French or Swiss, with his black hair closely cropped, and clean-shaved, blue-black cheeks and chin. ‘Bring me a pint of bitter beer in a tankard,’ said Richard loftily. ‘Oui, m’sieu.’ He was not away more than a couple of minutes. Dick was very thirsty, and he seized the tankard eagerly. ‘Wait,’ he said laconically. Then he blew off the beads of creamy froth, raised the tankard to his lips, and slowly and deliberately proceeded to empty it. While he was thus engaged, two ladies, followed by a maid carrying wraps and umbrellas, came round a corner of the shrubbery. They had driven from the station by way of the lower road, and hence had to walk through a portion of the grounds in order to reach the hotel. ‘A clergyman, and drinking beer out of a metal pot!’ exclaimed the elder of the two ladies. ‘What can the Establishment be coming to!’ Dick, whose back was towards the party, gave a great start and nearly dropped the tankard. ‘The dragon’s voice! I’m caught!’ Then giving the tankard back to Jules, he said with an affected lisp: ‘Thank you very much, my friend. On a sultry day like this, nothing can be more refreshing than a little iced lemonade.’ ‘Lemonade! Ah-ha; monsieur s’amuse,’ murmured Jules with a slight lifting of the shoulders as he took back the tankard and marched away.