said Betteredge, raising his voice, and shaking
his head at me solemnly. " It don't matter;
I withdraw my opinion, for all that. My young
lady says, ' Do it.' And I say, ' Miss, it shall
be done.' Here I am, with my book and my
pencil—the latter not pointed so well as I could
wish, but when Christians take leave of their
senses, who is to expect that pencils will keep
their points? Give me your orders, Mr. Jenings.
I'll have them in writing, sir. I'm determined
not to be behind 'em, or before 'em,
by so much as a hairsbreadth. I'm a blind
agent—that's what I am. A blind agent!"
repeated Betteredge, with infinite relish of his
own description of himself.

"I am very sorry," I began, " that you and
I don't agree——"

"Don't bring me, into it!" interposed
Betteredge. " This is not a matter of agreement,
it's a matter of obedience. Issue your directions
sir—issue your directions!"

Mr. Blake made me a sign to take him at his
word. I "issued my directions" as plainly and
as gravely as I could.

"I wish certain parts of the house to be
reopened," I said, " and to be furnished,
exactly as they were furnished at this time last
year."

Betteredge gave his imperfectly-pointed pencil
a preliminary lick with his tongue. " Name the
parts, Mr. Jennings!" he said loftily.

"First, the inner hall, leading to the chief
staircase."

"' First, the inner hall,' Betteredge wrote.
"Impossible to furnish that, sir, as it was
furnished last year—to begin with."

"Why?"

"Because there was a stuffed buzzard,
Mr. Jennings, in the hall last year. When the
family left, the buzzard was put away with the
other things. When the buzzard was put away
—he burst."

"We will except the buzzard then."

Betteredge took a note of the exception.
"' The inner hall to be furnished again, as
furnished last year. A burst buzzard alone
excepted.' Please to go on, Mr. Jennings."

"The carpet to be laid down on the stairs, as
before."

"' The carpet to be laid down on the stairs,
as before.' Sorry to disappoint you, sir. But
that can't be done either."

"Why not?"

"Because the man who laid that carpet down,
is dead, Mr. Jennings—and the like of him for
reconciling together a carpet and a corner, is
not to be found in all England, look where you
may."

"Very well. We must try the next best man
in England."

Betteredge took another note; and I went on
issuing my directions.

"Miss Verinder's sitting-room to be restored
exactly to what it was last year. Also, the
corridor leading from the sitting-room to the
first landing. Also, the second corridor, leading
from the second landing to the best bedrooms.
Also, the bedroom occupied last June by
Mr. Franklin Blake."

Betteredge's blunt pencil followed me
conscientiously, word by word. "Go on, sir,"
he said, with sardonic gravity. "There's a
deal of writing left in the point of this pencil
yet."

I told him that I had no more directions to
give. " Sir," said Betteredge, " in that case,
I have a point or two to put on my own
behalf." He opened the pocket-book at a new
page, and gave the inexhaustible pencil another
preliminary lick.

"I wish to know," he began, " whether I
may, or may not, wash my hands——"

"You may decidedly," said Mr. Blake. " I'll
ring for the waiter."

"——of certain responsibilities," pursued
Betteredge, impenetrably declining to see
anybody in the room but himself and me. "As to
Miss Verinder's sitting-room, to begin with.
When we took up the carpet last year,
Mr. Jennings, we found a surprising quantity of
pins. Am I responsible for putting back the
pins?"

"Certainly not."

Betteredge made a note of that concession,
on the spot.

"As to the first corridor next," he resumed,
"When we moved the ornaments in that part,
we moved a statue of a fat naked child
profanely described in the catalogue of the house
as ' Cupid, god of Love. ' He had two wings
last year, in the fleshy part of his shoulders.
My eye being off him, for the moment, he lost
one of them. Am I responsible for Cupid's
wing?"

I made another concession, and Betteredge
made another note.

"As to the second corridor," he went on,
"There having been nothing in it, last year,
but the doors of the rooms (to everyone of
which I can swear, if necessary), my mind is
easy, I admit, respecting that part of the house
only. But, as to Mr. Franklin's bedroom (if
that is to be put back to what it was before), I
want to know who is responsible for keeping it
in a perpetual state of litter, no matter how
often it may be set right—his trousers here,
his towels there, and his French novels
everywhere—I say, who is responsible for untidying
the tidiness of Mr. Franklin's room, him or
me?"

Mr. Blake declared that he would assume the
whole responsibility with the greatest pleasure.
Betteredge obstinately declined to listen to any
solution of the difficulty, without first referring
it to my sanction and approval. I accepted
Mr. Blake's proposal; and Betteredge made a last
entry in the pocket-book to that effect.

"Look in when you like, Mr. Jennings,
beginning from to-morrow," he said, getting on
his legs. " You will find me at work, with the
necessary persons to assist me. I respectfully
beg to thank you, sir, for overlooking the case
of the stuffed buzzard, and the other case of the
Cupid's wing—as also for permitting me to wash