there, reading.

"Books on etiquette is what you want to study," said John Hopkins,
abruptly. "Get up here, and I'll give you some lessors. Be rude to a
lady, will you?"

The young man looked mildly surprised. Then he arose languidly,
dextrously caught the arms of John Hopkins and conducted him
irresistibly to the front door of the house.

"Beware, Ralph Branscombe," cried the lady, who had followed, "what
you do to the gallant man who has tried to protect me."

The young man shoved John Hopkins gently out the door and then closed
it.

"Bess," he said calmly, "I wish you would quit reading historical
novels. How in the world did that fellow get in here?"

"Armand brought him," said the young lady. "I think you are awfully
mean not to let me have that St. Bernard. I sent Armand for Walter. I
was so angry with you."

"Be sensible, Bess," said the young man, taking her arm. "That dog
isn't safe. He has bitten two or three people around the kennels.
Come now, let's go tell auntie we are in good humor again."

Arm in arm, they moved away.

John Hopkins walked to his flat. The janitor's five-year-old daughter