"They are all dated, and Mr. Tullitt got pedigrees with each of them. One of them tells the moon, and one the day of the month. We shall have to hire an astrologer to regulate them and start them fair. Mr. Tullitt says he works best on board your railroad car, as noise suits him, so I shall fix the three clocks up in his den here to keep him happy. I reckon he'll know when it's lunch time, anyway. But what have you been doing, dad?" "Makin' a few notes. At present I'm gettin' some valu'ble information. Lord Roker says he's a drone." "Then I'm sure that Lord Roker does himself an injustice," she said, turning her smiling eyes upon him. Roker shook his head. "I toil not, neither do I spin." "What do you do all the time?" she asked. "I shoot and fish and hunt, and--er--once a year I see the Eton and Harrow cricket match." "Gosh!" exclaimed Mr. Pilgrim. "He shoots and fishes and hunts, and once a year he goes to a cricket match." "I said the Eton and Harrow match." "Cert'nly. They must give it some name, I reckon. An' what do you do when you can't shoot, an' fish, an' hunt?" "I add up my lists of kills and catches." "This is downright interestin'," said Mr. Pilgrim. "What do you shoot an' hunt?" "Birds and foxes." "You seem to fancy small fry, sir. Did you never hanker after elephants?" "Never. If I had a Maxim or a Gatling gun I might turn my attention to elephants, but I'm not going to buy one for the purpose." Mr. Pilgrim looked hard at his guest, but Lord Roker bore the scrutiny impassibly. "May I ask how you get your dollars?" the American continued. "I have an income from my father. I don't mind telling you the amount--three thousand a year." "Dollars?" "No; pounds sterling." "That's a tidy figure; but did you never wanter make that three thousand into thirty thousand?" "I have suggested an increase to my father, but not such a big one as that. I asked him to make it five, but he would not. Some day perhaps he may, but thirty thousand is out of the question." "I should suppose it was. I didn't mean an increase in your allowance. Did you never think of dippin' into trade, and increasin' it that way?" "Never." "Doesn't fancy elephants or trade," Mr. Pilgrim soliloquised. "Well, I reckon it takes all sorts of swallows to make a summer. Your father must have been in a good way of business." "Not a bit of it. He inherited all he has from his ancestors." "And how did the original ancestor make his pile?" "In war, in the time of Edward III. He had the good fortune to capture a Royal Prince, two dukes, and a marshal of France. We are still living on the ransoms he got." "I'd like to have known the original ancestor," said Mr. Pilgrim. "Reckon he'd have tackled elephants if he'd only got a pea-shooter." "Father," broke in Miss Pilgrim, "I'm sure Lord Roker is tired of answering questions. Don't you think it's our turn to do something now?"