"Humph!" muttered Mr. Oldstone, who was much too old-fashioned an English gentleman to be over partial to our friends across the channel. "I don't want my head frizzled, thank you, but a firm, steady, English hand to shave me--a man that is not above his business, and who will not bore me to death with his gossip." "Oh, as to that, sir," replied Helen, "it is part of a barber's profession. Many folks think it a recommendation. I am sure our villagers are delighted with his store of news." "No doubt, no doubt," said Oldstone, testily. "He had better cut it short, though, with me. However, send for this young blade, and tell him I wish to see a sample of his art. I shall be ready for him directly after breakfast." And off tripped our landlord's pretty daughter in obedience to the antiquary's orders. "'Pon my life! Crucible, this bacon is delicious," said he, helping himself afresh. "What say you, Blackdeed?" Both gentlemen acquiesced, as did also the other members in turn. "And the eggs divine," said Dr. Bleedem, bolting one at a mouthful. "Excellent," joined in McGuilp and Parnassus, filling their plates. The meal passed off pleasantly, and the last member at table had scarcely wiped his mouth with his napkin when Master Suds was announced. "Here, Helen, my dear," said Oldstone, "you may clear away now, and then you may call in your gallant. I am sure you will excuse me, gentlemen, for making you spectators to my operation?" "Certainly," answered the club all round. "There, that will do, Helen; now call him in." Helen disappeared with the breakfast things, when a timid knock at the door was heard. "Come in," roared sundry voices at once, and Master Suds appeared upon the scene, with his shaving tackle in a bag, and having his hair frizzled up in a caricature of the latest French fashion. "Bong jour, Mounseers," he began, with a flourish. "Don't mounseer me, you young whipper-snapper," said the antiquary; "but learn to speak the king's English when Englishmen honour you with their custom." "Pardong, mounseer--that is, I mean, I beg pardon, gentlemen; but habit, gentlemen--habit, you know--is rather difficult to get rid of, and when one has just come from foreign parts, like myself, one is apt to----" "Cut it short, young shaver," said Oldstone, "and bend you to your task. Are your razors sharp?" "Mais oui, mounseer--that is----" "If I catch you mounseering me again, I'll make that French pate of thine and this English fist acquainted, so mind," said the insulted antiquary. This terrible threat imposed temporary silence on our knight of the lather, who soaped and sudded away for a time without a word.