At once the four began to be thick as thieves, though it was apparent his lordship had eyes only for the woman. Coffee was brought. His lordship lighted his cigar. And now the word had so run from Mrs. Belknap-Jackson that all eyes were drawn to this table. She had created her sensation and it had become all at once more of one than she had thought. From Mrs. Judge Ballard’s table I caught her glare at her unconscious mother. It was not the way one’s daughter should regard one in public. Presently contriving to pass the table again, I noted that Cousin Egbert had changed his form of address. “Have some brandy with your coffee, Earl. Here, Jeff, bring Earl and all of us some lee-cures.” I divined the monstrous truth that he supposed himself to be calling his lordship by his first name, and he in turn must have understood my shocked glance of rebuke, for a bit later, with glad relief in his tones, he was addressing his lordship as “Cap!” And myself he had given the rank of colonel! The Klondike person in the beginning finely maintained her reserve. Only at the last did she descend to vivacity or the use of her eyes. This later laxness made me wonder if, after all, she would feel bound to pay his lordship the respect he was wont to command from her class. “You and poor George are rather alike,” I overheard, “except that he uses the single ‘what’ and you use the double. Hasn’t he any right to use the double ‘what’ yet, and what does it mean, anyway? Tell us.” “What, what!” demanded his lordship, a bit puzzled. “But that’s it! What do you say ‘What, what’ for? It can’t do you any good.” “What, what! But I mean to say, you’re having me on. My word you are--spoofing, I mean to say. What, what! To be sure. Chaffing lot, you are!” He laughed. He was behaving almost with levity. “But poor old George is so much younger than you--you must make allowances,” I again caught her saying; and his lordship replied: “Not at all; not at all! Matter of a half-score years. Barely a half-score; nine and a few months. Younger? What rot! Chaffing again.” Really it was a bit thick, the creature saying “poor old George” quite as if he were something in an institution, having to be wheeled about in a bath-chair with rugs and water-bottles! Glad I was when the trio gave signs of departure. It was woman’s craft dictating it, I dare say. She had made her effect and knew when to go. “Of course we shall have to talk over my dreadful designs on your poor old George,” said the amazing woman, intently regarding his lordship at parting. “Leave it to me,” said he, with a scarcely veiled significance. “Well, see you again, Cap,” said Cousin Egbert warmly. “I’ll take you around to meet some of the boys. We’ll see you have a good time.”