your account. If they didn't invite you, they couldn't have me. But to-night I've a new idea. Lady Henry S. has asked me to call. Quite regardless of my estate. For that matter she wouldn't be bothered with a crown prince who squinted. But she's intrigued by your humble assistant's 'dark hair and lovesome mien.' Eh bien, mon vieux, I'll grace her bally tea table! She's the thin end of the wedge. Before I'm through with her, his lordship will have dropped a potent word in the ear of that climbing draper man, Markwick, and if Markwick, via Lord Henry, via Lady ditto, via me, doesn't send you a thumping order, then I'll forfeit my salary for the next six months. We'll make them pay through the nose for their snubs. I'm no hand at sticking up posters in the bazaars; that's American publicity, and your pidgin. I'm beginning to see the English idea of business through connexions. We're Jack Spratt and his wife—and betwixt us both, by God, we'll lick the platter clean."
Pat's imagination was kindled, and his eves flashed nervously. "Listen here, sonny," he said. "If you can land a thousand-pound order from Markwick's as a starter, I'll make you a partner."
"Pooh—a paltry thousand! I thought you thought big!"
Pat looked dubious. "Markwick's the kind of a mean son-of-a-gun who'd look in your mouth to see if your back teeth were filled with zinc. He's conservative and has always done his buying in England, like his old man before him."
"Mrs. Markwick would give an eye-tooth, though, to be invited to one of Lady Henry's crushes."
Pat stared. "I don't get you. Are you going to make love to her too?"
"God forfend! Besides I can't tackle her direct, for she wouldn't even condescend to put up her lorgnette to
