“Mr. Lumme, sir,” said he, in a mincing voice, “has informed me that you was requiring a manservant. Enclosed you will find Air. Lumme's recommendation.”
He handed me a letter which ran as follows:
Dear Monsieur,—I have found the very man you want. He was valet to Lord Pluckham for five years, and could not have learned more from any one. Pluck-ham was very particular as to dress, and had many affairs requiring a discreet servant. He only left when P. went bankrupt, and has had excellent experience since. Been witness in two divorce cases, and is highly recommended by all; also a primitive Wesleyan by religion, and well educated. You cannot find a better man in London, nor as good, I assure you. His name is John Mingle. Don't lose this chance. I have had some trouble, but am glad to have found the very article.
“Yours truly,
“Edward Lumme.”
This was a pretty dilemma! The industrious and obliging Lumme had found one jewel, and in the meanwhile I had engaged another. I felt so ungrateful and guilty that I was ashamed to let my good Teddy discover what I had done. So instead of telling Mr. Mingle at once that the place was filled, I resolved to find him deficient in some important point, and decline to engage him on these grounds. Easier said than done.
“Your experience has been wide?” I asked, looking critical and feeling foolish.
“If I may say so, sir, it has,” said he, glancing down modestly at the hat he held in his hands.
“You can iron a hat?” I inquired, casting round in my mind for some task too heavy for this Hercules.
He smiled with, I thought, a little pity.