But first he would have luncheon--dinner he called it--and I was not
averse to this, for I had put in a long and trying morning. I went
with him to the little restaurant where Americans had made so much
trouble about ham and eggs, and there he insisted that I should join
him in chops and potatoes and ale. I thought it only proper then to
point out to him that there was certain differences in our walks of
life which should be more or less denoted by his manner of addressing
me. Among other things he should not address me as Mr. Ruggles, nor
was it customary for a valet to eat at the same table with his master.
He seemed much interested in these distinctions and thereupon
addressed me as "Colonel," which was of course quite absurd, but this
I could not make him see. Thereafter, I may say, that he called me
impartially either "Colonel" or "Bill." It was a situation that I had
never before been obliged to meet, and I found it trying in the
extreme. He was a chap who seemed ready to pal up with any one, and I
could not but recall the strange assertion I had so often heard that
in America one never knows who is one's superior. Fancy that! It would
never do with us. I could only determine to be on my guard.

Our luncheon done, he consented to accompany me to the hotel of the
Honourable George, whence I wished to remove my belongings. I should
have preferred to go alone, but I was too fearful of what he might do
to himself or his clothes in my absence.

We found the Honourable George still in bed, as I had feared. He had,
it seemed, been unable to discover his collar studs, which, though I
had placed them in a fresh shirt for him, he had carelessly covered
with a blanket. Begging Cousin Egbert to be seated in my room, I did a
few of the more obvious things required by my late master.