el wid triflin' culinary matter, to say dat yo'
don' take but de one brand?"

"Certainly," said Paul, smiling. "I really don't care for anything so
early;" then, returning to the bedroom, he said carelessly, "You'll
excuse me taking the liberty, colonel, of sending away the champagne
and contenting myself with whiskey. Even the best brand--the Widow
Cliquot"--with a glance at the gratified George--"I find rather trying
so early in the morning."

"As you please, Hathaway," said the colonel, somewhat stiffly. "I dare
say there's a new fashion in drinks now, and a gentleman's stomach is a
thing of the past. Then, I suppose, we can spare the boy, as this is
his time for going home. Put that tin box with the Trust papers on the
bed, George, and Mr. Hathaway will excuse your waiting." As the old
servant made an exaggerated obeisance to each, Paul remarked, as the
door closed upon him, "George certainly keeps his style, colonel, in
the face of the progress you deplore."

"He was always a 'dandy nigger,'" returned Pendleton, his face slightly
relaxing as he glanced after his grizzled henchman, "but his
exaggeration of courtesy is a blank sight more natural and manly than
the exaggeration of discourtesy which your superior civilized 'helps'
think is self-respect. The excuse of servitude of any kind is its
spontaneity and affection. When you know a man hates you and serves
you from interest, you know he's a cur and you're a tyrant. It's your
blank progress that's made menial service degrading by teaching men to
avoid it. Why, sir, when I first arrived here, Jack Hammersley and
myself took turns as cook to the party. I didn't consider myself any
the worse master for it. But enough of this." He paused, and, raising
himself on his elbow, gazed for some seconds half cautiously, half
doubtfully, upon his companion. "I've got something to tell you,
Hathaway," he said, slowly. "You've had an easy time with this Trust;
your share of the work hasn't worried you, kept you awake nights, or
interfered with your career. I understand perfectly," he continued, in
reply to Hathaway's deprecating gesture. "I accepted to act as your
proxy, and I HAVE. I'm not complaining. But it is time that you
should know what I've done, and what you may still have to do. Here is
the record. On the day after that interview in the Mayor's office, the
El Dorado Bank, of which I was, and still am, president, received
seventy-five thousand do