"Who engaged that new servant of yours?" he asked. "I mean the
fat fellow, with the curly flaxen hair."

"Hiring servants," I replied, "is not much in my way. I left the
engagement of the new man to Mrs. Mozeen."

Rothsay walked gravely up to my bedside.

"Lepel," he said, "your respectable housekeeper is in love with
the fat young footman."

It is not easy to amuse a man suffering from bronchitis. But this
new outbreak of absurdity was more than I could resist, even with
a mustard-plaster on my chest.

"I thought I should raise your spirits," Rothsay proceeded. "When
I came to your house this morning, the valet opened the door to
me. I expressed my surprise at his condescending to take that
trouble. He informed me that Joseph was otherwise engaged. 'With
anybody in particular?' I asked, humoring the joke. 'Yes, sir,
with the housekeeper. She's teaching him how to brush his hair,
so as to show off his good looks to the best advantage.' Make up
your mind, my friend, to lose Mrs. Mozeen--especially if she
happens to have any money."

"Nonsense, Rothsay! The poor woman is old enough to be Joseph's
mother."

"My good fellow, that won't make any difference to Joseph. In the