"Me," cried a voice from behind the door—"me? Oh ... I am James." *III* *FIRST IMPRESSIONS* With breakfast came the opportunity of renewing my _entente_ with James. That young lady appeared now fully clothed in the conventional garments of her age, even to a pinafore with seven pockets. "What do you put in all those pockets?" I inquired, as she tripped in with the bacon. "Most of them," she answered, "contain white rats.... I thought," she added, eyeing me closely, as I drifted in a thoughtful manner to the far end of the table, "I thought you _adored_ white rats?" "That is quite so," I responded. "The dear, dumb creatures! I—I idolise them." "_Why_ do you idolise them?" demanded James, putting on a very subtile smile. "Because," I answered, "because they—they are so dumb and—and so white." "Then why do you shudder at them?" I explained my attitude towards white rats. "It is not fear which makes me seem to shrink," I pointed out, "only a sense of—of—well, you see, the white rats which I have previously adored were confined within a cage, which contained a sort of treadmill, which they worked with their feet, and you watched this talented display from a distance, and wondered if they never grew tired. But——" "Those wheel-cages," interpolated James, "are the most damnable contrivances which were ever invented. Whenever I see one I buy it and burn it. That is one reason why I happen to have so many rats. I think that the people who make those things ought to be devoured by locusts. I——" "You also have the spirit of reform, then?" I ventured to suggest. "Reform!" echoed James, with a bitter laugh. "Because one hates to see things tortured? _I_ call it common decency. All of Fatty’s friends have got some wonderful new name for being decent. One of Fatty’s most particular friends is a rather awful man named Boag, and he is a public accountant, and he wears spats, and he calls himself a Conative Meliorist; and if you ask him why, he says it is because he believes in making people happy. ’Conative Meliorist’! Think of it! Sounds so expensive, doesn’t it? He pronounces his name in two jerks—Bo—ag, and it always reminds me of Asheg, Mesheg, and Abednedgo.... He looks exactly like them, too! ’Conative Meliorist’! It is much easier to call yourself just James." "Why _do_ you call yourself ’James,’ by the way?" "Let us stick to the point," responded James. "It is so like a man to dodge your arguments when he can’t upset them. What was the point?" "Conative Meliorism," I suggested.