th consternation in his wake. It really ought to be done.

"Teach 'em better," he said fiercely, and tweaked his moustache
painfully. What was it? He revived the objectionable remark for his own
exasperation, and then went over the heads of his speech again.

He coughed, made three steps towards the door, then stopped and went
back to the hearthrug. He wouldn't--after all. Yet was he not a Knight
Errant? Should such men go unreproved, unchecked, by wandering baronets
incognito? Magnanimity? Look at it in that way? Churls beneath one's
notice? No; merely a cowardly subterfuge. He WOULD after all.

Something within him protested that he was a hot-headed ass even as he
went towards the door again. But he only went on the more resolutely. He
crossed the hall, by the bar, and entered the room from which the remark
had proceeded. He opened the door abruptly and stood scowling on them
in the doorway. "You'll only make a mess of it," remarked the internal
sceptic. There were five men in the room altogether: a fat person,
with a long pipe and a great number of chins, in an armchair by the
fireplace, who wished Mr. Hoopdriver a good evening very affably; a
young fellow smoking a cutty and displaying crossed legs with gaiters;
a little, bearded man with a toothless laugh; a middle-aged, comfortable
man with bright eyes, who wore a velveteen jacket; and a fair young man,
very genteel in a yellowish-brown ready-made suit and a white tie.

"H'm," said Mr. Hoopdriver, looking very stern and harsh. And then in a
forbidding tone, as one who consented to no liberties, "Good evening."

"Very pleasant day we've been 'aving," said the fair young man with the
white tie.

"Very," said Mr. Hoopdriver, slowly; and taking a brown armchair, he
planted it with great deliberation where he faced the fireplace, and sat
down. Let's see--how did that speech begin?

"Very pleasant roads about here," said the fair young man with the white
tie.

"Very," said Mr. Hoopdriver, eyeing him darkly. Have to begin somehow.
"The roads about here are all right, and the weather about here is
all right, but what I've come in here to say is--there's some damned
unpleasant people--damned unpleasant people!"

"Oh!" said the young man with the gaiters, apparently making a mental
inventory of his pearl buttons as he spoke. "How's that?"

Mr. Hoopdriver put his hands on his knees and stuck out his elbows with
extreme angularity. In his heart he was raving at his