"And not only that," continued Mrs. Pett. "That would be bad enough in itself, but somehow the papers have discovered that I am the boy's aunt. Two weeks ago they printed my photograph with one of these articles. I suppose they will always do it now. That is why I have come to you. It must stop. And the only way it can be made to stop is by taking your step-son away from London where he is running wild. Peter has most kindly consented to give the boy a position in his office. It is very good of him, for the boy cannot in the nature of things be of any use for a very long time, but we have talked it over and it seems the only course. I have come this morning to ask you to let us take James Crocker back to America with us and keep him out of mischief by giving him honest work. What do you say?" Mrs. Crocker raised her eyebrows. "What do you expect me to say? It is utterly preposterous. I have never heard anything so supremely absurd in my life." "You refuse?" "Of course I refuse." "I think you are extremely foolish." "Indeed!" Mr. Pett cowed in his chair. He was feeling rather like a nervous and peace-loving patron of a wild western saloon who observes two cowboys reach for their hip-pockets. Neither his wife nor his sister-in-law paid any attention to him. The concluding exercises of a duel of the eyes was in progress between them. After some silent, age-long moments, Mrs. Crocker laughed a light laugh. "Most extraordinary!" she murmured. Mrs. Pett was in no mood for Anglicisms. "You know perfectly well, Eugenia," she said heatedly, "that James Crocker is being ruined here. For his sake, if not for mine--" Mrs. Crocker laughed another light laugh, one of those offensive rippling things which cause so much annoyance. "Don't be so ridiculous, Nesta! Ruined! Really! It is quite true that, a long while ago, when he was much younger and not quite used to the ways of London Society, James was a little wild, but all that sort of thing is over now. He knows"--she paused, setting herself as it were for the punch--"he knows that at any moment the government may decide to give his father a Peerage . . ." The blow went home. A quite audible gasp escaped her stricken sister. "What!" Mrs. Crocker placed two ringed fingers before her mouth in order not to hide a languid yawn. "Yes. Didn't you know? But of course you live so out of the world. Oh yes, it is extremely probable that Mr. Crocker's name will appear in the next Honours List. He is very highly thought of by the Powers. So naturally James is quite aware that he must behave in a suitable manner. He is a dear boy! He was handicapped at first by getting into the wrong set, but now his closest friend is Lord Percy Whipple, the second son of the Duke of Devizes, who is one of the most eminent men in the kingdom and a personal friend of the Premier." Mrs. Pett was in bad shape under this rain of titles, but she rallied herself to reply in kind.