Cousin Egbert here coughed nervously and eyed me with strong condemnation. “--then you behave like a murderer. What have you to say for yourself?” At this I saw there was little I could say, except that I had coarsely given way to the brute in me, and yet I knew I should try to explain. “I dare say, Madam, it may have been because Mr. Belknap-Jackson was quite sober at the unfortunate moment.” “Of course Charles was sober. The idea! What of it?” “I was remembering an occasion at Chaynes-Wotten when Lord Ivor Cradleigh behaved toward me somewhat as Mr. Belknap-Jackson did last night and when my own deportment was quite all that could be wished. It occurs to me now that it was because his lordship was, how shall I say?--quite far gone in liquor at the time, so that I could without loss of dignity pass it off as a mere prank. Indeed, he regarded it as such himself, performing the act with a good nature that I found quite irresistible, and I am certain that neither his lordship nor I have ever thought the less of each other because of it. I revert to this merely to show that I have not always acted in a ruffianly manner under these circumstances. It seems rather to depend upon how the thing is done--the mood of the performer--his mental state. Had Mr. Belknap-Jackson been--pardon me--quite drunk, I feel that the outcome would have been happier for us all. So far as I have thought along these lines, it seems to me that if one is to be kicked at all, one must be kicked good-naturedly. I mean to say, with a certain camaraderie, a lightness, a gayety, a genuine good-will that for the moment expresses itself uncouthly--an element, I regret to say, that was conspicuously lacking from the brief activities of Mr. Belknap-Jackson.” “I never heard such crazy talk,” responded Mrs. Effie, “and really I never saw such a man as you are for wanting people to become disgustingly drunk. You made poor Cousin Egbert and Jeff Tuttle act like beasts, and now nothing will satisfy you but that Charles should roll in the gutter. Such dissipated talk I never did hear, and poor Charles rarely taking anything but a single glass of wine, it upsets him so; even our reception punch he finds too stimulating!” I mean to say, the woman had cleanly missed my point, for never have I advocated the use of fermented liquors to excess; but I saw it was no good trying to tell her this. “And the worst of it,” she went rapidly on, “Cousin Egbert here is acting stranger than I ever knew him to act. He swears if he can’t keep you he’ll never have another man, and you know yourself what that means in his case--and Mrs. Pettengill saying she means to employ you herself if we let you go. Heaven knows what the poor woman can be thinking of! Oh, it’s awful--and everything was going so beautifully. Of course Charles would simply never be brought to accept an apology----” “I am only too anxious to make one,” I submitted.