Mr. Dix had come into the concern over the pictorial advertising. Of Dorothy as an ex-student of the McGrath Mr. Miller had presently come to think almost as much as he did of Dorothy the niece of Lady Tasker; and he had taken her word about Mr. Dix. "Couldn't your posters and things be made somehow a bit more--important?" Dorothy had suggested one day. "Tell me how," Mr. Miller had instantly replied--"tell us how; you've grasped the idee! You don't suppose we could enlist the patronage of our president of the Royal Academy, do you?" (Mr. Miller had lately begun to speak of "our" Royal Standard and "our" House of Peers.) Thereupon Dorothy had given a light, rapid sketch of Sir Edward Pointer, not so much disdaining as debarred by his official position from superintending Hallowells' pictorial advertising; and she had suggested Mr. Hamilton Dix instead. "Is he a live wire?" Mr. Miller had demanded. "No push about him, I mean, no noise, not always forcing himself forward, but the reel solid dignity? If he ain't excloosive and hard to get, he's no good to us! He ain't a 'Sir,' is he?" "No." "Nor an 'Honourable,' with a 'u' in it?" "No, he's just plain Mr. Dix." "And what place does he take among our critics of art? Is he a one-cent paper man or two cents? I ain't calling your friend down at all, Miss Lennard, but we can't afford any but what he's the very top-tip-top." "I think he'd do really well." "Then let him name his figure and buy him in.... And now tell me what's the difficulty about Mr. Stanhope Tasker." For a moment Dorothy's composure was a little shaken. She smiled and blushed both at once. Mr. Stanhope Tasker was her second cousin, and Mr. Miller's next words explained how Lady Tasker's nephew had come to be at Hallowells'. "I hope he ain't afraid he won't be able to hold the job down. Between you and I, Miss Lennard, it don't matter a rusty nail whether he do or he don't. He's here to _look_ good; if he does that he fills the bill from A to Zee. Why, walking up our Bond Street only this morning brought it home to me good and hard. 'Here they are,' says I, 'ten of 'em in as many minutes, the reel high-grade goods, with centuries of blue blood in the very way they wear their pantaloons--Sir Walters from 'way back, all with their names spelt one way and pronounced another--the genu-i-ne all-wool article; but can I get 'em? I cann't. And that's what Mr. Stan is, if I might call him that without familiarity. Now just you tell me, Miss Lennard, what's the bother?" Again Dorothy had bitten her lip, grown pink, and laughed. "Leave him to me. I'll keep him for you if I can." "But great snakes (pardon me) what _do_ these gentlemen want? They fix their own honorarium (has that got a 'u' in it?)--a captain in our army don't get as much by a half--we don't ask 'em to get shot--they don't handle goods--they just stand around--it would cipher out at a dollar a smile and a few 'This way pleases'--_and_ the rank of marshal."