ountry if we was all gentlemen--straight, an' a
little bit stupid, and 'ad 'alf a thought for others." And he refilled
his master's glass. "I don't measure a gentleman by 'is money, or 'is
title, not even by 'is clothes--I measure 'im by whether he can stand
'avin' power in 'is 'ands without gettin' unscrupled or swollen 'eaded,
an' whether 'e can do what he thinks right without payin' attention,
to clamour. But, mind you, 'e's got to 'ave right thoughts too, and a
feelin' 'eart. 'Ere's luck, sir."

Mr. Lavender, who, absorbed in his chauffeur's sentiments, had now drunk
two glasses, rose from his, chair, and clutching his hair said: "I will
not conceal from you, Joe, that I have always assumed every public man
came up to that standard, at least."

"Crikey said Joe. 'Ave you really, sir? My Gawd! Got any use for the
rest of this bottle?"

"No, Joe, no. I shall never have use for a bottle again."

"In that case I might as well," said Joe, pouring what remained into
a tumbler and drinking it off. "Is there any other topic you'd like to
mention? If I can 'ave any influence on you, I shall be very glad."

"Thank you, Joe," returned Mr. Lavender, "what I have most need of at
this moment is solitude and your good wishes. And will you kindly take
Blink away, and when she has had her run, place her in my bedroom, with
the window closed. Good-night, Joe. Call me late tomorrow morning.

"Certainly, sir. Good-night, sir."

"Good-night, Joe. Shake hands."

When Joe was gone, accompanied by the unwilling Blink, turning her
beautiful dark eyes back to the last, Mr. Lavender sat down at his
bureau, and drawing a sheet of paper to him, wrote at the top of it.

"My last Will and Testament."

It was a long time before he got further, and then entirely omitted
to leave anything in it, completely preoccupied by the preamble, which
gradually ran as follows:

"I, John Lavender, make known to all men by these presents that the
act which I contemplate is symbolical, and must in no sense be taken
as implying either weariness of life or that surrender to misfortune
which is unbecoming to an English public gentleman." (Over this
description of himself Mr. Lavender was obliged to pause some time
hovering between the two designations, and finally combining them as
the only way out of his difficulty.) "Long and painful experience
has convinced me that only by retiring from the former can I retain
the latter