"That’s all right," Teddie responded laconically. "Well, Mr. Hamilton, I’ll come back; but there is one little thing I’d like to mention—a little hint to help to keep the peace. If you would not mind being a trifle more particular in the future as to the society one works with in your office." Mr. Hamilton gasped. "Then that is all right," Teddie said comfortably, "and I, for my part, will try to keep my temper, which, to be sure, is a bit hot when roused; though nothing can be sweeter," he added earnestly, "when people do their best, in a reasonable sort of way—I don’t ask too much—to please me." Mr. Hamilton mechanically received a cup of tea from Hugh’s hand, and looked from him to Helen somewhat helplessly. "Ted," Helen interposed, a little reproachfully, "you must expect to take your chance as to companions. And pray, of what credit is it to you to keep your temper if it is never tried—if you are never tempted to lose it?" "I don’t _ask_ any credit, mother," her son answered, smiling affectionately upon her. "It merely struck me as a pity, being naturally, as I have said, particularly sweet, to rouse it unnecessarily." It was now Helen’s turn to look helpless. "But you will thank Mr. Hamilton for his kind offer?" she asked, taking the hand as well as the cup that he brought to the little table, for more tea. "As to that," Teddie replied genially, "he and I are good enough friends, and fully understand each other; don’t we?" he added, turning to Mr. Hamilton, who, his sense of irritation completely subsided, was looking immensely entertained. "Yes, yes," he responded warmly, "we are good friends, my dear boy." Teddie looked gratified, and, asking to be allowed to present his two brothers and his friend, Paul Charteris, who were congregated somewhat in the background, the conversation became more general.