Doctor Vardaman's house wore something of a festive look on Friday night when the "all-star cast," as some ribald jeerer had christened them, of "William Tell," began to arrive. It was partly due to the appearance of Huddesley in his worn evening-clothes, carefully brushed and pressed. How he contrived to get the dinner--and it was a good dinner--cooked and ready for serving, and yet present himself in the doctor's little oil-clothed entry to open the door whenever the bell tinkled, clean, cool, and unhurried, ready to take charge of overcoats and hats--how Huddesley did all that, I say, would have been a mystery to any woman. Even some of the young men spoke of it afterwards with enthusiasm. As I have already stated, it happened that I never saw Huddesley except once, later in this same fateful Friday evening, as we shall presently hear, so that I am unable to describe him; but he achieved a certain measure of immortality in much better-known and more widely-read columns than mine will ever be. And in fact there could not have been much about him to describe; I think he was undersized and lean, a decent-looking, temperate, capable creature. But nothing in his appearance, they tell me, would have moved one to a second glance at him; and perhaps it was that very neutrality of face and figure that adapted him so well to his position. That, and his manners, prudently balanced between respectful reticence and respectful interest. He had contributed in no small share to the coaching of everybody in the all-star cast; he knew these young men as well as any subordinate can know his superiors--yet he took their coats in sedate silence, recognising them only by his grave "yes, sir," and "no sir," and retiring to his kitchen as soon as his services were no longer needed. Just once did J. B. imagine that he detected a faint flavour of--call it irony or covert impudence in the man's bearing; and he presently dismissed the idea from his mind as too fantastic. It was when Huddesley was hanging up Teddy Johns' coat alongside the others on the old-fashioned iron hat-rack, wrought in the semblance of a grapevine with tendrils and bunches of fruit that decorated the hall between two life-size oil-paintings of the doctor's "big-bugs." "Who's that, Huddesley?" asked Teddy affably, indicating by a nod the one to the right. "The respectable-looking party in the knee-breeches, I mean." "That's Doctor Vardaman's grandhuncle, I believe, sir; 'e's dead." "No, you don't say? Tst, tst! Too bad! That's the first I've heard of it. When?" "Habout heighteen-twelve, Hi hunderstand, Mr. Theodore," said Huddesley, paying the tribute of a deferential smile to the other's jocularity. "Well, well, in the midst of life--the doctor's bearing up tolerably, however, I see. Do you suppose it was a good likeness? What a terrific big red nose the old boy had, didn't he?"