Dexie took no notice of this request, knowing it was made only for the purpose of using her detested name.

He repeated his request a second time, and even Gussie flushed at his offensive tone, though she called Dexie’s attention to the request.

“Dexie, Mr. Plaisted asks for a drink.  Where are your manners?”

“I have sent them away for repairs, Gussie dear,” Dexie replied, in her sweetest tone, “and I fear they will not be returned to me until after Mr. Plaisted has taken his departure.  Very sorry, but they have experienced such a strain these few days past that they were about worn out.”

“Dexie, I am ashamed of you!  Bring a drink of water for Mr. Plaisted directly!”

“My dearest Gussie, if Mr. Plaisted wants a drink, pray get it for him yourself,” was the soft and sweet reply, “for he will surely die of thirst before Dexter brings him a drop.  Allow me to suggest that, as an alternative, you can ring for the servant to wait on him, or lead him to the pump like any other—­beast,” and unmoved by the looks cast upon her she passed into the next room.

“You brought that upon yourself, Mr. Plaisted, but I am very, very sorry,” said Gussie, who felt all the insolence of the words that were spoken with such suavity.  “Why will you call her Dexter when you know that it makes her throw aside all civility?”

“Well, it is too bad, I will allow,” replied Plaisted, “but I own that I have only myself to blame when I provoke her into making such stinging retorts; but the temptation to tease her is irresistible, and I owe her for a good many tricks she has played on me.”

“Well, were I in your place, I would not call her ‘Dexter’ any more; though if your experience of her is not warning enough, I need say nothing more.”

“Well, I must admit that she has always had the best of it so far; but I will take good care she has no chance to repeat any of her former tactics—­though, if I am not mistaken, I have good cause to remember every visit I ever made to your house, thanks to her.  However, I ought to take the old proverb to heart, ’Those that live in glass houses should not throw stones,’ for I should feel vexed enough if my second name were thrown at me in the same manner.  It is quite as odious to me as ‘Dexter’ is to her.”

“What is your second name?  ‘D.S.’ are your initials, are they not?”

“Yes; but you would never guess what the ‘S.’ stands for.  When I was a little shaver my father was particularly interested in the history of the Prophet Daniel and his three friends, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, and I believe he fully intended to name me after the four of them; but at my christening mother drew the line at Shadrach.  I am just as close regarding my second name as Dexie is about her own—­so close, in fact, that not one of my schoolmates ever found it out.”

“But did they never ask what the ‘S.’ stood for?” Gussie asked.