Uncle Ramsey was large and imposing, with an effulgent complexion and a prosperous presence. He wore a double-jeweled ring on his apoplectic finger, and a scarab scarf-pin. His eyes were keen and shifty; his teeth had acquired the habit of clutching his fat black cigar viciously while he snarled his rather loose lips about them in conversation. Uncle Ramsay never looked one in the face when he was talking. He looked off into space, where he appeared to have the topic under discussion in visible form before him. He never took up with the conversation his host offered. He furnished the topics himself and pinned one down to them. It really was of no use whatever to start any subject unless it had been previously announced, because it never got further than the initiative. Uncle Ramsey always went on with whatever he had in mind. Tennelly knew this tendency, realized that in writing the letter he had taken the only possible way of bringing Courtland to his uncle's notice. After an exceedingly good dinner at the frat. house, where Tennelly did not usually dine, and being further reinforced by one of the aforesaid fat black cigars, Uncle Ramsey leaned back in Tennelly's leather chair, and began: "Now, Thomas!" Tennelly stirred uneasily. He despised that "Thomas." His full name was Llewellyn Thomas Tennelly. At home they called him "Lew." Nobody but Uncle Ramsey ever dared the hateful Thomas. He liked to air the fact that his nephew was named after himself, the great Ramsey Thomas. "Suppose you tell me about this man you have for me? What kind of a looking man is he?" Uncle Ramsey screwed up his eyes, looked to the middle distance where the subject ought to be, and examined him critically. "Has--ah--he--ah--_personality_? Personality is a great factor in success you know." Tennelly, in the brief space allowed him, declared that his friend would pass this test. "Well--ah! And can he--ah!--can he _lead men_? Because that is a very important point. The man I want must be a leader." "I think he is." "Um--ah! And does he--?" on down through a long list of questions. At last, after once more relighting his cigar, which had gone out frequently during the conversation, he turned to his nephew and fixed him sharply with a fat pale-blue eye. "Tell me the worst you know about him, Thomas! What are his faults?" he snapped, and settled back to squint at his imaginary stage again. "Why--I--Why, I don't think he has any," declared Tennelly, shifting uneasily in his chair. He had a feeling that Uncle Ramsey would get it out of him yet. And he did. "Yes, I perceive that he has! Out with it!" snapped the keen old bird, flinging his loose lips about restively. "It's only that he's got a religious twist lately, uncle. I don't think it'll last. I really think he is getting over it!"