y _are_ hard, Burgess. Inform her of my
sentiments," said Berkley cordially. "Now, my hat and cane, if you
please. We're a wonderful people, Burgess; we'll beat our
walking-sticks into bayonets if Mr. Beauregard insists on saying
boo to us too many times in succession. . . . And, Burgess?"

"Sir?"

"Now that you have waked up this morning to find yourself a hero, I
think you'd better find yourself another and more spectacular
master. My heroism, for the future, is to be more or less
inconspicuous; in fact, I begin the campaign by inserting my own
studs and cleaning my own clothes, and keeping out of gaol; and the
sooner I go where that kind of glory calls me the sooner my name
will be emblazoned in the bright lexicon of youth where there's no
such word as 'jail.'",

"Sir?"

"In simpler and more archaic phrase, I can't afford you, Burgess,
unless I pilfer for a living."

"I don't eat much, sir."

"No, you don't _eat_ much."

"I could quit drinking, sir."

"_That_ is really touching, Burgess. This alcohol pickled
integument of yours covers a trusting heart. But it won't do.
Heroics in a hall bedroom cut no coupons, my poor friend. Our
paths to glory and the grave part just outside the door-sill
yonder."

"_She_ said I could stay, sir."

"Which _she_?"

"The landlady. I'm to fetch coal and run errants and wait on
table. But you'll get the best cuts, sir. And after hours I can
see to your clothes and linen and boots and hats, and do your
errants same like the usual."

"Now this is nearly as pathetic as our best fiction," said Berkley;
"ruined master, faithful man--_won't_ leave--starves slowly at his
master's feet--tootle music very sneaky--'transformation! Burgess
in heaven, blinking, puzzled, stretching one wing, reflectively
scratching his halo with right hind foot. Angel chorus. Burgess
appears to enjoy it and lights one of my best cigars----"

"Sir?" said Burgess, very red.

Berkley swung around, levelled his walking-stick, and indicated the
pit of his servant's stomach:

"Your face is talking now; wait till _that_ begins to yell. It
will take more than I'm earning to fill it."

He stood a moment, smiling, curious. Then:

"You've been as faithless a valet as any servant who ever watered
wine, lost a gimcrack, or hooked a weed. Studs, neckcloths,
bootjacks, silk socks, pins, underwear--all magically and
eventually faded from my wardrobe, wafted to those silent bournes
of swag