"Sorry I can’t shake hands." He held forth his free hand, unabashed, and it was very black. "Come in here, will you?" Denis flung open the door of the drawing-room. Ted deposited the coal scuttle in the hall and followed them. Then coldly came Miss Lancaster’s voice:— "Are you acting charades or what?" "Neither," said Ted, "work—real, honest work, you know. Have you come to fetch me?" "Yes. Your father wants you. He’s starting for South Africa to-night." "All right. I’ll put on my coat." Nell came in, very pink, very demure. The response to her greeting was very cold. She turned to Ted. "I see you’ve filled the coal-box. Thanks so much." "Governor wants me." Ted’s face had grown grim, frowning. "We suggested he might be with his Irish friends," pursued Alicia, with a nasty little emphasis on the two last words, "and as we were just starting for a drive, we offered to—er—" "Look for Ted?" finished Nell. "Er—Ted?" Alicia said. "That’s me," explained Ted, gravely. "If," said Alicia, "you can spare our cousin now, we should like to drive him back." Nell turned to him. "Hurry up, _Teddie_!" "Let me see," observed Denis, thoughtfully, "can we spare him yet? He’s washed up—and filled the coal-box. There’re the boots to clean, old man, but if your pater wants you, you’ll have to go!" "How kind of you!" sneered Alicia, angrily. "I shall have to go, Nell," Ted said; "my father’s off to-night to South Africa." "Oh, hurry, then! Denis, take him to your room." "There’s the scullery sink. I saw a bit of saffron-hued soap there, and a beautiful brush in a pail. Come on, old chap." Ted glanced frowningly at Nell and then at Denis. "Don’t you come. I can find it." Denis nodded. "All right." Ted left the room. "What a good thing you thought of coming here for him," observed Nell, politely. "Yes." "Mrs. Lancaster’s well, I hope?" said Denis, cheerfully. "Yes, thank you." Nell dared not meet his eye. She bit her lip in terror she would begin to laugh. "Is it the custom in Ireland to use one’s friends as one’s servants?" inquired Alicia. "Oh, yes, invariable custom," he responded. "It’s a good idea—does away with the servant problem, you see. When you invite people to dinner, the husbands go off to shoot pheasants, and the wives come in to help cook ’em. When dinner’s over they all help wash up; Ted’s new to it yet, but he’s getting on!" "We’ll soon be able to give Sarah a week’s holiday, and have him in every day," annotated Nell. "Oh, _have_ you a servant?" said Alicia, and Nell’s eyes lit with contempt of her petty ill-breeding. "Well, I wouldn’t like to call her that," pondered Denis, thoughtfully, "servantette would be better." "Will you have some tea?" Nell asked. "I won’t be a minute getting it." "No, thank you." Ted came in, immaculate in long fawn coat. "Coming?" he said curtly.