"Young blighted Albert," said Keggs the butler, shifting his weight

so that it distributed itself more comfortably over the creaking

chair in which he reclined, "let this be a lesson to you, young

feller me lad."

The day was a week after Lord Marshmoreton's visit to London, the

hour six o'clock. The housekeeper's room, in which the upper

servants took their meals, had emptied. Of the gay company which

had just finished dinner only Keggs remained, placidly digesting.

Albert, whose duty it was to wait on the upper servants, was moving

to and fro, morosely collecting the plates and glasses. The boy was

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in no happy frame of mind. Throughout dinner the conversation at

table had dealt almost exclusively with the now celebrated

elopement of Reggie Byng and his bride, and few subjects could have

made more painful listening to Albert.

"What's been the result and what I might call the upshot," said

Keggs, continuing his homily, "of all your making yourself so busy

and thrusting of yourself forward and meddling in the affairs of

your elders and betters? The upshot and issue of it 'as been that

you are out five shillings and nothing to show for it. Five

shillings what you might have spent on some good book and improved

your mind! And goodness knows it wants all the improving it can

get, for of all the worthless, idle little messers it's ever been

my misfortune to have dealings with, you are the champion. Be

careful of them plates, young man, and don't breathe so hard. You

'aven't got hasthma or something, 'ave you?"

"I can't breathe now!" complained the stricken child.

"Not like a grampus you can't, and don't you forget it." Keggs

wagged his head reprovingly. "Well, so your Reggie Byng's gone and

eloped, has he! That ought to teach you to be more careful another

time 'ow you go gambling and plunging into sweepstakes. The idea of

a child of your age 'aving the audacity to thrust 'isself forward

like that!"

"Don't call him my Reggie Byng! I didn't draw 'im!"

"There's no need to go into all that again, young feller. You

accepted 'im freely and without prejudice when the fair exchange

was suggested, so for all practical intents and purposes he is your

Reggie Byng. I 'ope you're going to send him a wedding-present."

"Well, you ain't any better off than me, with all your 'ighway

robbery!"

"My what!"

"You 'eard what I said."

"Well, don't let me 'ear it again. The idea! If you 'ad any

objections to parting with that ticket, you should have stated them

clearly at the time. And what do you mean by saying I ain't any

better off than you are?"




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