“But there’d be no opportunity for you to spend money, or display yourself,” urged the other. “Not, of course, that I would begrudge a pound or two, more or less, if there were a real need of it. But in this case, the whole point is that you should lie low, and not be seen any more. There is no necessity that she should meet you again. In fact, the more I think of it, the clearer it is that she shouldn’t. It might spoil everything, don’t you see?” “Oh no, my lad!” rejoined David, cheerfully. “I’m not of the hermit variety of aristocrat. I’m the kind of Earl who’s on the spot, and who lets people know that he is present. I will have rings on my fingers and bells on my toes. I will--why, let me see!” His face brightened at some wandering thought. “Why, man, I have a birthday in six days’ time! That’s it, the 24th. I knew there was the difference of a year lacking a week between us. She read it to me this morning out of the peerage--August 24th. Very well, then, I will celebrate the anniversary as it has never been celebrated before. I will provide an entertainment for my immediate friends upon a scale befitting my position and the importance of the event commemorated. What do you think of a special saloon-carriage to Portsmouth, and a dinner on my yacht, eh? One could be hired and manned for the occasion, and a staff of cooks and servants sent down from an hotel here. Or could you get them in Portsmouth? Does anything more appropriate occur to you?” “Go on with your jest,” replied the other, sullenly. “All I can say is, it’s in damned bad taste, though. Here I am in this predicament, and you pour vinegar into my wounds instead of oil.” “Standard Oil, I assume that you refer to. No, you shall have the oil, Archie. You shall be my guest on the occasion, and you shall meet Mr. and Miss Skinner. We four will constitute the party; and I will provide such an engaging spectacle of the nobleman, the bearer of hereditary dignities and titles, seen close at hand among his intimate friends, that the lady will be moved to admiration. She will say, ‘Ah, I never guessed before how delightful an Earl could be, how perfect in manners, how admirable in tact, how superb in his capacity as host.’ I will reconcile her to the aristocracy _en bloc_.” “Say, you know,” interposed Drumpipes, “I’m not sure there isn’t something in that.” “Something in it? My dear sir, it’s rammed with fructifying probabilities. I give this party, and I do it as an Earl should do things. I exert myself to fascinate this transatlantic twain. I lead their imaginations captive to my hereditary seductiveness. I make them feel that to be the guests of an Earl is more than beauty and fine raiment and Standard Oil. I excite them to a warm glow of tenderness toward feudalism, a mood that melts at mere thought of the mediaeval. At that psychological moment you jump in and intimate that you’re something of an Earl yourself--and there you are!”