“Capital! I shall not be hard on you, Ben. I flatter myself that I can—a—stand in another fellow’s shoes. The long and short of it all is that I want to—a—spare your feelings as much as possible, but—to go back to the very beginning—you made the wrong start.” Fishpingle smiled. A sense of humour may be lively in a man who, all his life, has been constrained to suppress it, but occasionally it crops to the surface. “It is perfectly true, Sir Geoffrey. My Christian name was chosen by your grandmother, Lady Alicia, on that account.” Sir Geoffrey winced. To cover his confusion he said hastily: “Did my grandmother choose it? I was not aware of it.” “Her ladyship was my godmother.” “So she was—so she was. Well, with the best intention in the world, my poor grandmother made rather a pet of you, Ben. B’ Jove! she liked you better than she did me. And that is the marrow of the matter. She deliberately educated you above your station. Mind you, I don’t blame you for helping yourself generously of—a—drinking deeply of—a——” Fishpingle came to his rescue. “The Pierian Spring, Sir Geoffrey.” “Just so. A little knowledge, Ben, is a dangerous thing, what?” Lady Pomfret made another observation. “Ben has a great deal of knowledge, Geoffrey, He has saved you buying an Encyclopædia Britannica.” Again Sir Geoffrey frowned, wondering what my lady was “at.” Why these tactless interruptions? He admonished her quietly: “Please, my dear, please! Ben’s knowledge of my affairs has been dangerous. Proof? It has brought us to this abominable pass. As I smoked my cigar on the terrace just now——Where is it?” He picked it up. “Confound it! It’s gone out.” He flung it aside. “Where was I? Yes, yes; as I smoked my cigar I thought of Cardinal Wolsey, poor fellow, and bluff King Hal—bless him! Well, well, we mustn’t let our thoughts wander. There is an Eastern proverb: ‘As the sands of the desert are—are——’” Fishpingle finished the quotation: “‘As the sands of the desert are to the weary traveller, so is overmuch speech to him who loveth silence.’” “Quite! Quite! Now, Ben, I am prepared to meet you half-way. Prudence, all said and done, is your kinswoman not mine. Strongly as I feel about first cousins marrying, I have made up my mind to abide by what I wrote. For her ladyship’s sake, I consent to reinstate Prudence and Alfred in my establishment, and to sanction a marriage——” “Thank you, Sir Geoffrey.” “Against which I, personally, protest.” If the Squire expected effusive gratitude, he was disappointed. Fishpingle said respectfully: “The young people have left the house, Sir Geoffrey, but they will be glad enough to come back.” “I should think so. We come now to Mr. Lionel. For the future we had better speak of him as _Mister_ Lionel, till—a—he becomes Captain Pomfret.” Fishpingle bowed. “So far, you have acted as go-between. You are aware that he is absolutely dependent on me?” “He has his pay, Geoffrey,” murmured Lady Pomfret.