Presently, having shaken himself free from the unmaidenly caresses of the youngest Miss Welwyn, Dicky became aware of the pathetic presence of Mr. Stillbottle. "Good-morning, Mr. Russell," he said. "You are just the man I want to see." "You can see me as often and as long as you like, sir," replied the afflicted Russell fervently, "if only you’ll put those two imps on the other side of that door." "Certainly," said Dicky. "Now you two, skedaddle!" To the amazement and admiration of their late victim the two freebooters departed immediately, merely pausing to receive a valedictory salute from their evictor. Dicky closed the door upon them, and motioning the broker’s man to a chair, enquired:-- "Where is everybody this morning, Mr. Russell?" "My name, in mufti, to my friends," replied the grateful Russell, "is Stillbottle. But you was asking about ’everybody.’ Meanin’ the Barcelona Troupe of Performing Nuts?" Dicky nodded. "Upstairs, most of ’em," said Stillbottle. "All but your little bit. She ’as gone out." Dicky looked up sharply. "For long?" he asked. "I could n’t say," replied the broker’s man. "Perce has gone to the City. Mother and the little ’un are a-makin’ of the beds. The Principal Filbert is still between the sheets. I’m the only member of the cast visible at present. But as you say it’s me you came to see, perhaps you’ll kindly state your business." Dicky did so. A quarter of an hour later he ascended to the drawing-room, restored to its usual aspect of dingy propriety after yesterday’s junketings. He noticed that his carnations had disappeared. Mr. Welwyn was just entering from his bedroom. At the sight of Dicky he started, but recovering himself with his usual readiness, shook hands. "Good-morning, Mr. Mainwaring," he said. "Be seated." Dicky complied. "You seem surprised to see me, sir," he said. "Frankly," replied Mr. Welwyn, "I am. After our treatment of you yesterday I hardly expected you to return. I can only extenuate our performance by assuring you that what looked like a carefully graduated series of insults was nothing more than the logical, if unforeseen, development of a somewhat childish attempt upon our part to delude your family into the impression that our circumstances were not so straitened as, in point of fact, they are. We meant well, but--" Mr. Welwyn concluded this explanation with a rather helpless gesture. It was an awkward and difficult moment. With all his faults he was a man of feeling, with a gentleman’s inherent distaste for anything savouring of sharp practice; and he knew that the boy before him felt the situation as acutely as himself. There are few sadder sights than that of an old man eating humble pie to a young man. But Dicky, The Freak, was equal to the occasion. He answered gravely:-- "The point of view which I prefer to take, Mr. Welwyn, is this--that you were all trying to do a good turn to Tilly."