Mr. Brimberly coughed softly behind plump fingers.

"The--the key, sir?" he suggested.

"Oh, not at all necessary, Brimberly; the lock is faulty, you know."

"Sir?" said Brimberly, soothing a twitching whisker.

"If you are familiar with the life of the Fourteenth Louis, Brimberly,
you will remember that the Grand Monarch hated to be kept waiting--so do
I. A cigar--in the cabinet yonder."

With his whiskers in a high state of agitation, Mr. Brimberly laid by
the garments he held clutched in one arm and coming to the cabinet,
opened it, and taking thence a box of cigars, very much at random, came
back, carrying it rather as though it were a box of highly dangerous
explosives, and setting it at his master's elbow, struck a match.

As Mr. Brimberly watched his master select and light his cigar, it
chanced that Young R. raised his eyes and looked at him, and to be sure
those eyes were surprisingly piercing and quick for one so very languid.
Indeed, Mr. Brimberly seemed to think so, for he coughed again, faint
and discreetly, behind his hand, while his whiskers quivered slightly,
though perceptibly.

"You're 'ome quite--quite unexpected, sir!"

"Brimberly, I'm afraid I am, but I hope I don't intrude?"

"Intrude, sir!" repeated Mr. Brimberly. "Oh, very facetious, sir, very
facetious indeed!" and he laughed, deferentially and soft.

"I blew the horn, but I see he left his hat behind him!" sighed Young
R., nodding languidly toward the headgear of Mr. Stevens, which had
fallen beneath a chair and thus escaped notice.

"Why, I--indeed, sir," said Mr. Brimberly, stooping to make a fierce
clutch at it, "I took the liberty of showing a friend of mine your--your
picters, sir--no offence, I 'ope, sir?"

"Friend?" murmured his master.

"Name of Stevens, sir, valet to Lord Barberton--a most sooperior person
indeed, sir!"

"Barberton? I don't agree with you, Brimberly."

"Stevens, sir!"

"Ah! And you showed him my--pictures, did you?"

"Yes, sir, I did take that liberty--no offence, sir, I--"

"Hum! Did he like 'em?"

"Like them, sir! 'E were fair overpowered, sir! Brandy and soda, sir?"

"Thanks! Did he like that, too?"

"Why, sir--I--indeed--"

"Oh, never mind--to-night is an occasion, anyway--just a splash of soda!
Yes, Brimberly, when the clocks strike midnight I shall be thirty-five
years old--"

"Indeed, sir!" exclaimed Brimberly, clasping his plump hands softly and
bowing, "then allow me to wish you