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Show EXCUSE FOR HIS BLUNDERING Ideal Wa'rter, True to the End, Had Been Working Under Pretty Heavy Handicap. He was an immaculate servant. To watch him serve a salad was to watch an artist at work. To hear his subdued sub-dued accents was a lesson in the art of voice-production. He never slipped, he never smiled, and his mutton-chop whiskers marked him as one of the old and faithful stock. But one evening, even-ing, to the surprise of his master, he showed unaccountable signs of nervousness. nerv-ousness. When the chicken came on, he confused it with the pheasant. He served everything in the wrong order, or-der, made blunder after blunder, and put a final touch to his shame by upsetting up-setting the salt over the only superstitious super-stitious member of the party. Then, at last, when the ladies had retired to the. drawing room, he touched his master mas-ter on the shoulder. "I beg your pardon, par-don, sir," he said in a respectful undertone, un-dertone, "but could you manage to spare me now? My house is on fire." |