"Depressed by want of food, Sir," continued Thompson, by sheer duress
preventing my father from following his guests and attempting to
pacify them, "I have taken to spirits. I do not like the taste of
spirits and they go at once to my head. They depress me further, Sir,
but they intoxicate me. Yes, I am undoubtedly tipsy."

My father seized the opportunity of his pause for reflection to order
him to leave the room and present himself in the morning when he was
sober.

"You dismiss us without notice, Sir," he stated, referring to himself
and his wife in the kitchen. "First thing in the morning we go. And so
I have ordered the cab to take us."

This was a very proper fate for Thompson but came a little hard on my
father. "But what am _I_ to do?" asked he.

Thompson regarded him with a desultory smile. "The Mews desires to
know, Sir," said he, "who will pay for the cab?"

I ought to be able to state that there followed with the cold light
of day an apology, with passionate tears and remorse, from Thompson,
or at least a severe reprimand from my father before he consented to
keep him on. I regret to say that my father, next morning, postponed
the interview till the evening, and from the evening till the next
morning, and--that interview is still pending. If this seems weak, you
have only to see Thompson to realize that no man with any sense of the
incongruous could even mention the word "Drink" in his presence.