“And such hopes I had of him in Paris,” replied Mrs. Effie, “when he was taking up Art and dressing for dinner and everything!” “I can be pushed just so far!” muttered the offender darkly. There was now a ring at the door which I took the liberty of answering, and received two notes from a messenger. One bore the address of Mrs. Floud and the other was quite astonishingly to myself, the name preceded by “Colonel.” “That’s Jen’ Ballard’s stationery!” cried Mrs. Belknap-Jackson. “Trust her not to lose one second in getting busy!” “But he mustn’t answer the door that way,” exclaimed her husband as I handed Mrs. Effie her note. They were indeed both from my acquaintance of the night before. Receiving permission to read my own, I found it to be a dinner invitation for the following Friday. Mrs. Effie looked up from hers. “It’s all too true,” she announced grimly. “We’re asked to dinner and she earnestly hopes dear Colonel Ruggles will have made no other engagement. She also says hasn’t he the darlingest English accent. Oh, isn’t it a mess!” “You see how right I am,” said Belknap-Jackson. “I guess we’ve got to go through with it,” conceded Mrs. Effie. “The pushing thing that Ballard woman is!” observed her friend. “Ruggles!” exclaimed Belknap-Jackson, addressing me with sudden decision. “Yes, sir.” “Listen carefully--I’m quite serious. In future you will try to address me as if I were your equal. Ah! rather you will try to address me as if you were _my_ equal. I dare say it will come to you easily after a bit of practice. Your employers will wish you to address them in the same manner. You will cultivate toward us a manner of easy friendliness--remember I’m entirely serious--quite as if you were one of us. You must try to be, in short, the Colonel Marmaduke Ruggles that wretched penny-a-liner has foisted upon these innocent people. We shall thus avert a most humiliating contretemps.” The thing fair staggered me. I fell weakly into the chair by which I had stood, for the first time in a not uneventful career feeling that my _savoir faire_ had been overtaxed. “Quite right,” he went on. “Be seated as one of us,” and he amazingly proffered me his cigarette case. “Do take one, old chap,” he insisted as I weakly waved it away, and against my will I did so. “Dare say you’ll fancy them--a non-throat cigarette especially prescribed for me.” He now held a match so that I was obliged to smoke. Never have I been in less humour for it. “There, not so hard, is it? You see, we’re getting on famously.” “Ain’t I always said Bill was a good mixer?” called Cousin Egbert, but his gaucherie was pointedly ignored. “Now,” continued Belknap-Jackson, “suppose you tell us in a chatty, friendly way just what you think about this regrettable affair.” All sat forward interestedly.