time' - my father would repeat with a laugh and shake his head admiringly. He

neither claimed to know the butler's name, nor anyone who had known him, but he

would always insist the event occurred just as he told it. In any case, it is of

little importance whether or not this story is true; the significant thing is,

of course, what it reveals concerning my father's ideals. For when I look back

over his career, I can see with hindsight that he must have striven throughout

his years somehow to become that butler of his story. And in my view, at the

peak of his career, my father achieved his ambition. For although I am sure he

never had the chance to encounter a tiger beneath the dining table, when I think

over all that I know or have heard concerning him, I can think of at least

several instances of his displaying in abundance that very quality he so admired

in the butler of his story.

 

One such instance was related to me by Mr David Charles, of the Charles and

Redding Company, who visited Darlington Hall from time to time during Lord

Darlington's days. It was one evening when I happened to be valeting him, Mr

Charles told me he had come across my father some years earlier while a guest at

Loughborough House - the home of Mr John Silvers, the industrialist, where my

father served for fifteen years at the height of his career. He had never been

quite able to forget my father, Mr Charles told me, owing to an incident that

occurred during that visit.

 

One afternoon, Mr Charles to his shame and regret had allowed himself to become

inebriated in the company of two fellow guests - gentlemen I shall merely call

Mr Smith and Mr Jones since they are likely to be still remembered in certain