he chauffeur's side was
a small kitchen from which I had been served with my meals when I lodged
there. This thoroughly convenient establishment was the only place I
could call home, and I experienced a pleasurable sense of comfort as I
opened the door into the snug living-room.

"The house is in order. You will have your meals at the residence, I
suppose, sir," Antoine suggested.

I debated this a moment, and when he hinted that dinner could be more
conveniently served there than in my own quarters, I said that for the
present the Flynns might give me breakfast and luncheon at the garage,
but that I would dine at the house. The original owner of the property,
from whose executor my uncle had purchased it with all its belongings,
had accumulated a remarkable library, rich in the Elizabethan stuff for
which I have a weakness, and it occurred to me that it would be pleasant
to eat my solitary dinner at the residence and loaf in the library for
an hour afterward. Like most slaves of the inkpot, I habitually postpone
actual labor as long as possible, and if I were to dine at the garage I
should have no excuse for not plunging at once into my novel. The
Tyringham people were domiciled in cottages scattered over the estate,
though a full staff of house servants was established in the residence.

It was five o'clock when I reached the garage, and Antoine left me after
opening my bags with the suggestion that I could summon Zimmerman, a
former valet of the Tyringham, for any service I might require. I knew
Zimmerman very well and said I would call him when occasion required.

"He is of that race," said Antoine plaintively in the French which now
seemed to come readily enough to his lips.

"Race? Botheration! You mustn't trouble yourself about race questions
out here, Antoine. Zimmerman is a good old chap, who's probably
forgotten the very name of the German town he was born in."

"They do not forget," Antoine replied with emphasis. "There has been
much discussion--much----"

"Forget it, Antoine! I supposed you were all living here like a happy
family. You've been sticking too close to the farm, and it would do you
good to run into town for a week. Please tell them at the residence that
I'll dine at seven."

"Very good, sir," he said in his pompous Tyringham manner, but I saw
that he was miffed by my indifference.

Flynn, having disposed of the car, came to ask if there was anything he
could do for me. When I had expla