ahead. My only regret is that you could not come with me.”

“Business, my dear fellow. It pursues me to the last hour, even in holiday time.”

[Pg 31]

[Pg 31]

“But that is good. It argues success. Your idle man is rarely successful.”

“I fear it is possible for a busy man to score a loss occasionally. I expect you have finished tea long since? Can you squeeze the pot, Mam?”

“It will be here in a minute, Tom,” said Mam, smiling. “My husband hates to miss his tea, Mr. Schwartz. He would drink three cups now if I were to let him, though we dine at seven.”

“By the way, that reminds me,” said the Old Man, dropping into his regular chair in the drawing-room. “I fell in with your servant at Waterloo, Schwartz.”

“My servant!” said Schwartz, blankly, and both Dan and Tibbie heard every word, as Minkie had collected Dan again before she took her usual perch on a hassock near her father. If the Guv’nor had said he came across Schwartz’s balloon at the Southwestern terminus our visitor could not have put more bewilderment into his voice.

“Yes, your black valet,” explained the Guv’nor.

[Pg 32]

[Pg 32]

“My black valet! I don’t possess such an article. I left my man at Brook-street, and he is a Frenchman.”

Schwartz had risen to his feet. He looked strangely pale—Minkie told me his face was a flea-bitten grey. The Guv’nor jumped up, too. So did Minkie, and Dan, and Tibbie. You see, Mam and Dorothy knew nothing about the gentleman who had gone to Schwartz’s bedroom to arrange his dress suit and put the studs in his shirt.

“Then who the blazes is the nigger who is in your room upstairs at this moment?” said the Old Man, forgetting that there were ladies present.

“Nigger! My room!”

Schwartz’s voice cracked. He gasped as though he had run a mile. He glared 

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