pupillari. Perhaps he carries this view of the relationship too far,
but the Boy, on the other hand, cheerfully regards him as in loco
parentis and accepts much from him which he will not endure from a
stranger. A cuff from his master (delivered in a right spirit)
raises his dignity, but the same from a guest in the house wounds him
terribly. He protests that it is "not regulation." And in this
happy spirit of filial piety he will live until his hair grows white
and his hand shaky and his teeth fall out and service gives place to
worship, dulia to latria, and the most revered idol among his penates
is the photograph of his departed master. With a tear in his dim old
eye he takes it from its shrine and unwraps the red handkerchief in
which it is folded, while he tells of the virtues of the great and
good man. He says there are no such masters in these days, and when
you reply that there are no such servants either, he does not
contradict you. Yet he may have been a sad young scamp when he began
life as a dog-boy fifty-five years ago, and, on the other hand, it is
not so impossible as it seems that the scapegrace for whose special
behoof you keep a rattan on your hat-pegs may mellow into a most
respectable and trustworthy old man, at least if he is happy enough
to settle under a good master; for the Boy is often very much a
reflection of the master. Often, but not always. Something depends
on the grain of the material. There are Boys and Boys. There is a
Boy with whom, when you get him, you can do nothing but dismiss him,
and this is not a loss to him only, but to you, for every dismissal
weakens your position. A man who parts lightly with his servants
will never have a servant worth retaining. At the morning conference
in the market, where masters are discussed over the soothing beeree,
none holds so low a place as the saheb who has had eleven butlers in
twelve months. Only loafers will take service with him, and he must
pay even them highly. Believe me, the reputation that your service