Whether Mr. Neefit broke Ralph Newton's little statuette,—a miniature copy in porcelain¹ of the Apollo Belvidere, which stood in a corner of Ralph's room, and in the possession of which he took some pride,—from awkwardness in his wrath² or of malice³ prepense, was never known. He told the servant that he had whisked it down with his coat tails; but Ralph always thought that the breeches-maker had intended to make a general ruin, but had been cowed by the noise of his first attack. He did, at any rate, abstain⁴ from breaking other things, and when the servant entered the room, condescended⁵ to make some careless apology. "A trifle like that ain't nothing between me and your master, Jack," said Mr. Neefit, after accounting⁶ for the accident by his coat-tails.

"I am not Jack," said the indignant valet, with a strong foreign accent. "I am named—Adolphe."

"Adolphe, are you? I don't think much of Adolphe for a name;—but it ain't no difference to me. Just pick up them bits; will you?"

The man turned a look of scorn on Mr. Neefit, and did pick up the bits. He intended to obey his master as far as might be possible, but was very unwilling⁷ to wait upon the breeches-maker. He felt that the order which had been given to him was very cruel. It was his duty,—and his pleasure to wait upon gentlemen; but this man he knew to be a tradesman who measured customers for hunting apparel in his own shop. It was hard upon him that his master should go and leave him to be insulted, ordered about, and trodden upon by a breeches-maker. "Get me a bit of steak, will you?" demanded Neefit;—"a bit of the rump, not too much done, with the gravy⁸ in it,—and an onion. What are you staring at? Didn't you hear what your master said to you?"

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