that matter of
the article still open between us, and I would like to have a word or two
more about it."

"Well, I can give you just ten minutes," said the American journalist.

"I understand that you are a busy man, sir, so I'll cut it as short as I
can. There's a public garden opposite if you would be so good as talk it
over in the open air."

The Pressman took his hat and accompanied the footman. They walked
together down the winding gravelled path among the rhododendron bushes.

"It's like this, sir," said the footman, halting when they had arrived at
a quiet nook. "I was hoping that you would see it in our light and
understand me when I told you that the servant who was trying to give
honest service for his master's money, and the man who is free born and
as good as his neighbour are two separate folk. There's the duty man and
there's the natural man, and they are different men. To say that I have
no life of my own, or self-respect of my own, because there are days when
I give myself to the service of another, is not fair treatment. I was
hoping, sir, that when I made this clear to you, you would have met me
like a man and taken it back."

"Well, you have not convinced me," said the American. "A man's a man,
and he's responsible for all his actions."

"Then you won't take back what you said of me--the degradation and the
rest?"

"No, I don't see why I should."

The man's comely face darkened.

"You _will_ take it back," said he. "I'll smash your blasted head if you
don't."

The American was suddenly aware that he was in the presence of a very
ugly proposition. The man was large, strong, and evidently most earnest
and determined. His brows were knotted, his eyes flashing, and his fists
clenched. On neutral ground he struck the journalist as really being a
very different person to the obsequious and silken footman of Trustall
Old Manor. The American had all the courage, both of his race and of his
profession, but he realised suddenly that he was very much in the wrong.
He was man enough to say so.

"Well, sir, this once," said the footman, as they shook hands. "I don't
approve of the mixin' of classes--none of the best servants do. But I'm
on my own to-day, so we'll let it pass. But I wish you'd set it right
with your people, sir. I wish you would make them understand that an
English servant can give good and proper service and yet that he's a
human bein' I after all."

IV. THE