“Don’t they?” commented Isobel. “Well, that saves the Queen some trouble of which she must be glad as she does not get the subscription. I know all about the accolade,” she added; “for Godfrey has told me. Only the other day he was showing me in the Abbey Church where the warriors who were to receive it, knelt all night before the altar. But they didn’t give subscriptions, they prayed and afterwards took a cold bath.” “Times are changed,” he answered. “Yes, of course. I can’t see _you_ kneeling all night with a white robe on, Father, in prayer before an altar. But tell me, would they have made you a baronet if you hadn’t given the subscription?” Sir John chuckled till his great form shook—he had grown very stout of late years. “I think you are sharp enough to answer that question for yourself. I have observed, Isobel, that you know as much of the world as most young girls of your age.” “So you bought the thing,” she exclaimed with a flash of her grey eyes. “I thought that honours were given because they were earned.” “Did you?” said Sir John, chuckling again. “Well, now you know better. Look here, Isobel, don’t be a fool. Honours, or most of them, like other things, are for those who can pay for them in this way or that. Nobody bothers how they come so long as they _do_ come. Now, listen. Unfortunately, as a girl, you can’t inherit this title. But it doesn’t matter much, since it will be easy for you to get one for yourself.” Isobel turned red and uttered an exclamation, but enjoining silence on her with a wave of his fat hand, her father went on: “I haven’t done so badly, my dear, considering my chances. I don’t mind telling you that I am a rich man now, indeed a very rich man as things go, and I shall be much richer, for nothing pays like ships, especially if you man them with foreign crews. Also I am a Bart.,” and he pointed to the pile of newspapers on the floor, “and if my Party gets in again, before long I shall be a Lord, which would make you an Honourable. Anyway, my girl, although you ain’t exactly a beauty,” here he considered her with a critical eye, “you’ll make a fine figure of a woman and with your money, you should be able to get any husband you like. What’s more,” and he banged his fist upon the table, “I expect you to do it; that’s your part of the family business. Do you understand?” “I understand, Father, that you expect me to get any husband I like. Well, I’ll promise that.” “I think you ought to come into the office, you are so smart,” replied Sir John with sarcasm. “But don’t you try it on me, for I’m smarter. You know very well that I mean any husband _I_ like, when I say ‘any husband you like.’ Now do you understand?”