ous that Russian nobility should stumble over its own language."

"I meant to ask. What did you say to him?" Elspeth questioned, rolling up the ball of yarn.

"Said it was excellent tea," Jim responded; "a simple remark, comprising almost all the Russian I know, except Eti sleefki skeeslees, meaning 'this cream is sour,' which was impolite and untrue. I think he said 'Certain,' which isn't particularly good grammar, and he boggled over that"

"Perhaps he was so surprised at hearing his own language from a lightkeeper that he was rattled," Elspeth suggested.

"Perhaps," Jim agreed, rather dubiously. He smoked in silence for some time, and then said:

"It was beastly of him to refuse Garth's hand. It was absolutely clean and perfectly dry; even if it hadn't been, it was up to him to take it."

"I didn't see that!" Elspeth frowned. "When was that?"

"When he'd brought us in," Jim told her. "Garth went up like a gentleman and put out his hand, which was decent, considering the way