It was the ambition of our hero to be, like all public men, without fear and without reproach. He drank not, abstained from fleshly intercourse, and habitually spoke the truth. His face was thin, high cheek-boned, and not unpleasing, with one loose eyebrow over which he had no control; his eyes, bright and of hazel hue, looked his fellows in the face without seeing what was in it. Though his moustache was still dark, his thick waving hair was permanently white, for his study was lined from floor to ceiling with books, pamphlets, journals, and the recorded utterances of great mouths. He was of a frugal habit, ate what was put before him without question, and if asked what he would have, invariably answered: “What is there?” without listening to the reply. For at mealtimes it was his custom to read the writings of great men. “Joe,” he would say to his chauffeur, who had a slight limp, a green wandering eye, and a red face, with a rather curved and rather redder nose, “You must read this.” And Joe would answer: “Which one is that, sir?” “Hummingtop; a great man, I think, Joe.” “A brainy chap, right enough, sir.” “He has done wonders for the country. Listen to this.” And Mr. Lavender would read as follows: “If I had fifty sons I would give them all. If I had forty daughters they should nurse and scrub and weed and fill shells; if I had thirty country-houses they should all be hospitals; if I had twenty pens I would use them all day long; if had ten voices they should never cease to inspire and aid my country.” “If 'e had nine lives,” interrupted Joe, with a certain suddenness, “'e'd save the lot.” Mr. Lavender lowered the paper. “I cannot bear cynicism, Joe; there is no quality so unbecoming to a gentleman.” “Me and 'im don't put in for that, sir.” “Joe, Mr. Lavender would say you are, incorrigible....” Our gentleman, in common with all worthy of the name, had a bank-book, which, in hopes that it would disclose an unsuspected balance, he would have “made up” every time he read an utterance exhorting people to invest and save their country. One morning at the end of May, finding there was none, he called in his housekeeper and said: “Mrs. Petty, we are spending too much; we have again been exhorted to save. Listen! 'Every penny diverted from prosecution of the war is one more spent in the interests of the enemies of mankind. No patriotic person, I am confident; will spend upon him or herself a stiver which could be devoted to the noble ends so near to all our hearts. Let us make every spare copper into bullets to strengthen the sinews of war!' A great speech. What can we do without?” “The newspapers, sir.” “Don't be foolish, Mrs. Petty. From what else could we draw our inspiration and comfort in these terrible days?” Mrs. Petty sniffed. “Well, you can't eat less than you do,” she said; “but you might stop feedin' Blink out of your rations—that I do think.”