If he had told Pearson to enter and climb the chimney, it cannot be said that the order would have been obeyed upon the spot, but Pearson would certainly have hesitated and explained with respectful delicacy the fact that the task was not “his place.” He came into the room. “I came to see, if I could do anything further and--” making a courageous onslaught upon the situation for which he had been preparing himself for hours--“and also--if it is not too late--to venture to trouble you with regard to your wardrobe.” He coughed a low, embarrassed cough. “In unpacking, sir, I found--I did not find--” “You didn't find much, did you?” Tembarom assisted him. “Of course, sir,” Pearson apologized, “leaving New York so hurriedly, your--your man evidently had not time to--er--” Tembarom looked at him a few seconds longer, as if making up his mind to something. Then he threw himself easily into the big chair by the fire, and leaned back in it with the frankest and best-natured smile possible. “I hadn't any man,” he said. “Say, Pearson,” waving his hand to another chair near by, “suppose you take a seat.” Long and careful training came to Pearson's aid and supported him, but he was afraid that he looked nervous, and certainly there was a lack of entire calm in his voice. “I--thank you, sir,--I think I'd better stand, sir.” “Why?” inquired Tembarom, taking his tobacco-pouch out of his pocket and preparing to fill another pipe. “You're most kind, sir, but--but--” in impassioned embarrassment--“I should really PREFER to stand, sir, if you don't mind. I should feel more--more at 'ome, sir,” he added, dropping an h in his agitation. “Well, if you'd like it better, that's all right,” yielded Mr. Temple Barholm, stuffing tobacco into the pipe. Pearson darted to a table, produced a match, struck it, and gave it to him. “Thank you,” said Tembarom, still good-naturedly. “But there are a few things I've GOT to say to you RIGHT now.” Pearson had really done his best, his very best, but he was terrified because of the certain circumstances once before referred to. “I beg pardon, sir,” he appealed, “but I am most anxious to give satisfaction in every respect.” He WAS, poor young man, horribly anxious. “To-day being only the first day, I dare say I have not been all I should have been. I have never valeted an American gentleman before, but I'm sure I shall become accustomed to everything QUITE soon--almost immediately.” “Say,” broke in Tembarom, “you're 'way off. I'm not complaining. You're all right.” The easy good temper of his manner was so singularly assuring that Pearson, unexplainable as he found him in every other respect, knew that this at least was to be depended upon, and he drew an almost palpable breath of relief. Something actually allured him into approaching what he had never felt it safe to approach before under like circumstances--a confidential disclosure.