out
and have a drink together. This is a thing which I really never do, but
on this occasion I allowed myself to be persuaded. Not liking to
mention beer, I said that I would take a glass of sherry wine. Nothing
could have been more friendly and pleasing than his behaviour toward
me; there was nothing at all stuck-up about him. It turned out that,
after all, the Hon. Eugene Clerrimount had forgotten his purse, and
Perkins happened to have no money on him; I therefore paid for the
drinks, and also lent the Hon. Eugene Clerrimount half a crown for his
cab; it was, indeed, quite a pleasure to do so. He thanked me warmly,
and said that he should like to know me better. Might he call at my
house on the following Saturday afternoon? As luck would have it, I
happened to have a card on me, and presented it to him, saying that it
would indeed be an honour. "Thanks," he replied, "and then I can repay
you this half-sovereign, or whatever it is." "Only four shillings," I
replied, "and pray do not mention it."

[Illustration: _The Gentleman of Title._]

* * * * *

Eliza was certainly less pleased than myself when she heard that the
Hon. Eugene Clerrimount was coming. She said that he might be all
right, or he might not, and we did not know anything about him. I
replied: "One does not know anything about anybody in that rank of
life. It is not necessary."

"Oh!" she said. "Isn't it? Well, I don't happen to be an earl myself."

And, really, on the Saturday morning I had the greatest difficulty to
get Eliza to take a little trouble with the drawing-room, though I
asked for nothing more than a thorough dusting, chrysanthemums, and the
blinds up. For the tea I offered to make myself entirely responsible.
There was some doubt as to whether the girl should announce him as the
Hon. Mr. Clerrimount, or the Hon. Eugene Clerrimount, or Mr. Hon.
Clerrimount. "She'd better do all three, one after the other," said
Eliza, snappishly. I obviated the difficulty by telling the girl, as
she opened the drawing-room door, merely to say, "A gentleman to see
you." I am rather one for thinking of these little ways out of
difficulties.

Eliza wanted to know what time he was coming. I replied that he could
not come before three or after six, because that would be against
etiquette.

"Suppose he came at five minutes to three by accident," said Eliza.
"Would he sit on our doorsteps until the clock struck, and