your good old Irish jokes!"

Alas! it must be here recorded that warm-hearted Mrs. Malone was not
joking--but lying. She had never been to any expert. The hundred and
ten pounds were to come out of her own lean pocket; this had been her
"bright idea," when she contemplated the monster in the cabinet. She
was sincerely fond of Shafto; during the time he had been under her
roof she had never known him to do a mean or ungentlemanly action; he
was considerate, unselfish, and generous--poor as he was; also he
opened doors, handed chairs, treated age with deference, and in short
conducted himself like the people among whom she had lived most of her
life.

Richard Hutton was of the same type, so were the two Japanese; but
Levison, her most valuable guest, Larcher, and other young boarders
had, in her opinion, no manners at all. They smoked where and how they
pleased (barring the drawing-room), left cigarette stumps all over the
house, kicked off their boots in the hall, were late for meals, loud in
talk, arguments and complaints, and supremely indifferent to the
comfort of their companions.

* * * * * *

In some extraordinary and inexplicable manner the story of the monster
had leaked out--at any rate, it was in the air. Perhaps the monster
himself had blazoned forth the fact of his own value, or Michael, the
handy man, had caught a whisper from Maggie (Mrs. Malone's right hand)?
However it was, Mrs. Malone was not a little startled when Mr. Levison,
in his loud resonant voice, shouted at her down the dinner table: