"Oh, indeed, sir, if it were she, it's you who would be standing," said the cook. "For my part," said Crane, turning again to the table, "I had imagined her to myself as quite different. I had supposed her small, soft-eyed, with tiny hands and feet and a mouth--" He was looking at Jane-Ellen's mouth, as if that might give him an inspiration, when Reed interrupted. "I regret to say, Mr. Crane," he said, "that if this conversation continues to deal disrespectfully with the appearance of a young lady for whom--" "Disrespectfully!" cried Crane. "I assure you, I had no such intention. I leave it to you, Jane-Ellen, whether anything disrespectful was said about this young lady." "It did not seem so to me, sir," answered the cook, with all her gentlest manner. "But," she added, glancing humbly at Reed, "of course, it would never do for a servant like me to be setting up my opinion on such a matter against a gentleman like Mr. Reed." "What I mean is, if Miss Revelly were here, do you think she would object to anything we have said?" "Indeed, I'm sure she would actually have enjoyed it, sir." "Well, then, she ought not," shouted Reed sternly. Jane-Ellen shook her head sadly. "Ah, sir," she said, "young ladies like Miss Revelly don't always do what they ought to, if report speaks true." "May I ask, without impertinence, Burton," said Tucker, at this point, "whether it is your intention to give us nothing whatsoever to drink with our dinner?" "No, certainly not," cried Crane. "Jane-Ellen, why haven't you served the champagne?" The reason for this omission was presently only too clear. Jane-Ellen had not the faintest idea of how to open the bottle. Crane, listening with one ear to his guests, watched her wrestling with it in a corner, holding it as if it were a venomous reptile. "For my part," Tucker was saying, "I have a great deal of sympathy with the stand Mr. Reed has taken. Any discussion of a woman behind her back runs at least the risk--" Suddenly Crane shouted: "Look out! Don't do that!" He was speaking not to Tucker, but to the cook. His warning, however, came too late. There was the sound of breaking glass and a deep cherry-colored stain dyed the napkin in Jane-Ellen's hand. All four chairs were pushed back, all four men sprang to her side. "Let me see your hand." "Is it badly cut?" "An artery runs near there." "Is there any glass in it?" They crowded around her, nor did any one of them seem to be averse to taking the case entirely into his own control. "There are antiseptics and bandages upstairs," said Crane. "Better let me wash it well at the tap in the pantry," urged Reed. "Does it hurt horribly?" asked Lefferts. Tucker, putting on his glasses, observed: "I have had some experience in surgery, and if you will let me examine the wound by a good light--" "Oh, gentlemen," said Jane-Ellen, "this is absurd. It's nothing but a scratch. Do sit down and finish your dinner, and let me get through my work."