rest Bordeaux wine which the arts of modern adulteration permit us to
drink. This man had filled the claret jug with water.

"All my valuable property, ostentatiously exposed to view," he said, in
his bitterly facetious manner. "My landlord's property matches it on the
big table."

The big table presented a coarse earthenware teapot; cups and saucers
with pieces chipped out of them; a cracked milk jug; a tumbler which
served as a sugar basin; and an old vegetable dish, honored by holding
delicate French sweet-meats for the first time since it had left the
shop.

My deaf friend, in boisterously good spirits, pointed backwards and
forwards between the precious and the worthless objects on the two
tables, as if he saw a prospect that delighted him.

"I don't believe the man lives," he said, "who enjoys Contrast as I
do.--What do you want now?"

This question was addressed to Gloody, who had just entered the room. He
touched the earthenware teapot. His master answered: "Let it alone."

"I make the tea at other times," the man persisted, looking at me.

"What does he say? Write it down for me, Mr. Roylake. I beg you will
write it down."

There was anger in his eyes as he made that request. I took his book, and
wrote the words--harmless words, surely? He read them, and turned
savagely to his unfortunate servant.

"In the days when you were a ruffian in the prize-ring, did the other
men's fists beat all the brains out of your head? Do you think you can
make tea that is fit for Mr. Roylake to drink?"

He pointed to an open door, communicating with another bedroom. Gloody's
eyes rested steadily on Cristel: she failed to notice him, being occupied
at the moment in replacing the pin of a brooch which had slipped out of
her dress. The man withdrew into the second bedroom, and softly closed
the door.

Our host recovered his good humor. He took a wooden stool, and seated
himself by Cristel.

"Borrowed furniture," he said, "as well as borrowed tea-things. What a
debt of obligation I owe to your excellent father. How quiet you are,
dear girl. Do you regret having followed the impulse which made you
kindly offer to drink tea with us?" He suddenly turned to me. "Another
proof, Mr. Roylake, of the sisterly interest that she feels in you; she
can't hear of your coming to my room, without wanting to be with you. Ah,
you possess the mysterious attractions which fascinate the sex. One of
these days, _some_ woman will love you a