It was not until the following morning, indeed, that the sediment began to settle, and some of the sanity of Peter's wholesome prescription to produce a clarifying effect. As long as he, Jack, lived upon his uncle's bounty--and that was really what it amounted it--he must at least try to contribute his own quota of good cheer and courtesy. This was what Peter had done him the honor to advise, and he must begin at once if he wanted to show his appreciation of the courtesy. His uncle opened the way: “Why, I didn't know until I saw him go out that he was a friend of Mr. Portman's,” he said as he sipped his coffee. “Neither did I. But does it make any difference?” answered Jack, flipping off the top of his egg. “Well I should think so--about ninety-nine and nine-tenths percent,” replied the older man emphatically. “Let's invite him to dinner, Jack. Maybe he'll come to one I'm giving next week and--” “I'll ask him--that is... perhaps, though, you might write him a note, uncle, and--” “Of course,” interrupted Breen, ignoring the suggestion, “when I wanted you to take him to the club I didn't know who he was.” “Of course you did not,” echoed Jack, suppressing a smile. “The club! No, not by a damned sight!” exclaimed the head of the house of Breen. As this latter observation was addressed to the circumambient air, and not immediately to Jack, it elicited no response. Although slightly profane, Jack was clever enough to read in its tones not only ample apology for previous criticisms but a sort of prospective reparation, whereupon our generous young gentleman forgave his uncle at once, and thought that from this on he might like him the better. Even Parkins came in for a share of Jack's most gracious intentions, and though he was as silent as an automaton playing a game of chess, a slight crack was visible in the veneer of his face when Jack thanked him for having brought Mr. Grayson--same reverential pronunciation--upstairs himself instead of allowing Frederick or one of the maid-servants to perform that service. As for his apologies to Corinne and his aunt for having remained in his room after Mr. Grayson's departure, instead of taking part in the last hours of the dance--one o'clock was the exact hour--these were reserved until those ladies should appear at dinner, when they were made with so penitential a ring in his voice that his aunt at once jumped to the conclusion that he must have been bored to death by the old fellow, while Corinne hugged herself in the belief that perhaps after all Jack was renewing his interest in her; a delusion which took such possession of her small head that she finally determined to send Garry a note begging him to come to her at once, on business of the UTMOST IMPORTANCE; two strings being better than one, especially when they were to be played each against the other.