When the bell at last rang I donned my service coat and, assuming a look of profound remorse, I went to the drawing-room to serve the morning coffee. As I suspected, only Mrs. Effie was present. I believe it has been before remarked that she is a person of commanding presence, with a manner of marked determination. She favoured me with a brief but chilling glance, and for some moments thereafter affected quite to ignore me. Obviously she had been completely greened the night before and was treating me with a proper contempt. I saw that it was no use grousing at fate and that it was better for me not to go into the American wilderness, since a rolling stone gathers no moss. I was prepared to accept instant dismissal without a character. She began upon me, however, after her first cup of coffee, more mildly than I had expected. “Ruggles, I’m horribly disappointed in you.” “Not more so than I myself, Madam,” I replied. “I am more disappointed,” she continued, “because I felt that Cousin Egbert had something in him----” “Something in him, yes, Madam,” I murmured sympathetically. “And that you were the man to bring it out. I was quite hopeful after you got him into those new clothes. I don’t believe any one else could have done it. And now it turns out that you have this weakness for drink. Not only that, but you have a mania for insisting that other men drink with you. Think of those two poor fellows trailing you over Paris yesterday trying to save you from yourself.” “I shall never forget it, Madam,” I said. “Of course I don’t believe that Jeff Tuttle always has to have it forced on him. Jeff Tuttle is an Indian. But Cousin Egbert is different. You tore him away from that art gallery where he was improving his mind, and led him into places that must have been disgusting to him. All he wanted was to study the world’s masterpieces in canvas and marble, yet you put a cabman’s hat on him and made him ride an antelope, or whatever the thing was. I can’t think where you got such ideas.” “I was not myself. I can only say that I seemed to be subject to an attack.” And the Tuttle person was one of their Indians! This explained so much about him. “You don’t look like a periodical souse,” she remarked. “Quite so, Madam.” “But you must be a wonder when you do start. The point is: am I doing right to intrust Cousin Egbert to you again?” “Quite so, Madam.” “It seems doubtful if you are the person to develop his higher nature.”