Sam didn’t care, of course. We, who have had the privilege of a glimpse into his iron soul, know that. He was not in the least upset by the news—just surprised. He happened to be raising his glass at the moment, and he registered a certain amount of restrained emotion by snapping the stem in half and shooting the contents over the tablecloth: but that was all. “Good heavens, Sam!” ejaculated Sir Mallaby, aghast. His wine glasses were an old and valued set. Sam blushed as red as the stain on the cloth. “Awfully sorry, father! Don’t know how it happened.” “Something must have given you a shock,” suggested Billie kindly. The old retainer rallied round with napkins, and Sir Mallaby, who was just about to dismiss the affair with the polished ease of a good host, suddenly became aware of the activities of Bream. That young man, on whose dreamy calm the accident had made no impression whatever, had successfully established the equilibrium of the glass and the fork, and was now cautiously inserting beneath the latter a section of a roll, the whole forming a charming picture in still life. “If that glass is in your way....” said Sir Mallaby as soon as he had hitched up his drooping jaw sufficiently to enable him to speak. He was beginning to feel that he would be lucky if he came out of this dinner-party with a mere remnant of his precious set. “Oh, Sir Mallaby,” said Billie, casting an adoring glance at the juggler, “you needn’t be afraid that Bream will drop it. _He_ isn’t clumsy! He is wonderful at that sort of thing, simply wonderful! I think it’s so splendid,” said Billie, “when men can do things like that. I’m always trying to get Bream to do some of his tricks for people, but he’s so modest, he won’t.” “Refreshingly different,” Sir Mallaby considered, “from the average drawing-room entertainer.” “Yes,” said Billie emphatically. “I think the most terrible thing in the world is a man who tries to entertain when he can’t. Did I tell you about the man on board ship, father, at the ship’s concert? Oh, it was the most awful thing you ever saw. Everybody was talking about it!” She beamed round the table, and there was a note of fresh girlish gaiety in her voice. “This man got up to do an imitation of somebody—nobody knows to this day who it was meant to be—and he came into the saloon and directly he saw the audience he got stage fright. He just stood there gurgling and not saying a word, and then suddenly his nerve failed him altogether and he turned and tore out of the room like a rabbit. He absolutely ran! And he hadn’t said a word! It was the most ridiculous exhibition I’ve ever seen!” The anecdote went well. Of course there will always be a small minority in any audience which does not appreciate a funny story, and there was one in the present case. But the bulk of the company roared with laughter. “Do you mean,” cried Sir Mallaby, choking, “the poor idiot just stood there dumb?”