“A hero!” ejaculated her listener. “Great Scot! A pity he has no way of showing what stuff he is made of, beyond beating buffaloes away from old ladies.” “Yes, it is a pity. However, his opportunity may come _yet_. It is also a still greater pity that one can never praise one man to another.” “Well,” nursing his knee meditatively, “I will admit that Jervis is passable, and looks clean bred----” “Thank you, that is very kind of you. Does it not strike you that he is afflicted with an old-fashioned infirmity, and is decidedly shy?” “Shy!” he almost shouted. “Jervis shy? Ha, ha, ha!” “Well, he is with ladies.” “Oh, you may call it by whatever _name_ you please. I call it fastidiousness. At any rate he is not shy with men. No fear! Only last night at the club some cad made a caddish remark, and it was not our hoary secretary who took it up and went for him, or any of the old chaps, but Jervis. By George, he gave him pepper. Went slap down his throat, spurs and all. A man’s man you know, and popular. He can sing a good song, make a rattling good speech, and is as active as a cat; you should see him take a run, and jump standing on the billiard-room chimney-piece.” “What, Jervis? _My_ Jervis?” in a tone of affected horror. “Ahem! Well, I am not so sure of his being _your_ Jervis,” drawled Mr. Skeggs. “No; and I am positively certain that he is not, in the sense you mean. I must confess that I should like to study him.” “Would you?” sarcastically. “You will not find him easy to classify or to fit into any of the usual pigeon-holes; he is a fellow who has a singular gift of self-control--consumes his own smoke, you know.” “Why you have been unbending your great mind and studying him yourself! What do you make him out to be?” “I make him out to be a curiosity--a mixture of an Arcadian shepherd, a London swell, and the rich young man in the Bible.” “You overwhelm me completely, especially by your last simile. Why the rich young man in the Bible?” “Because he kept all the commandments.” “Oh!” drawing a long breath, “he must be as wonderful a rarity as the great auk. As for an Arcadian shepherd, I see what you mean. He has got what some one called an out-of-door mind. I have _not_. I should loathe Arcadia, and green swards, and be-ribboned crooks, and skipping lambs. To let you into a dead, dead secret, I can never see a lamb without thinking of _mint sauce_!” “Shame! Shame!” exclaimed Mr. Skeggs, in tragic tones. “Well, Miss Gordon,” to Honor, who had approached their nook, “how are you getting on with that grand scheme of mirrors and draperies?” “Very badly. It would have been finished long ago, only some unprincipled people from the ball-room made raids on me, and carried off both my hammers, all my pins, and two of my best Phoolcarries. What do you call that?” appealing for sympathy to Miss Valpy.