“I would help readily enough if it were free dinners, or anything to equalize the existence of the classes, instead of feeding the artificial wants of the one at the expense of the toil and wretchedness of the other.” He proceeded to mention some of the miseries that he had learnt through the Oxford House--dilating on them with much enthusiasm--till presently his uncle came in, and ere long a parlour-maid announced luncheon, just as there was a rush into the house. Adrian was caught by his sister, and submitted, without more than a “Bother!” to be made respectable, and only communicating in spasmodic gasps facts about Merrifield and hockey. “Where’s Marshall?” asked Gerald at the first opportunity, on the maid leaving the room. “Marshall could not stand it,” said his aunt. “He can’t exist without London, and doing the honours of a studio.” “Left you!” “Most politely he informed me that this place does not agree with his health; and there did not seem sufficient scope for his services since the Reverend Underwood had become so much more independent. So we were thankful to dispose of him to Lord de Vigny.” “He was a great plague,” interpolated Adrian, “always jawing about the hall-door.” “Are you really without a man-servant?” demanded Gerald. “In the house. Lomax comes up from the stables to take some of the work. Some lemonade, Gerald?” Gerald gazed round in search of unutterable requirements; but only met imploring eyes from aunt and sister, and restraining ones from his uncle. He subsided and submitted to the lemonade, while Anna diverted attention by recurring rather nervously to the former subject. “And I have got rid of Porter, she kept me in far too good order.” “As if Sibby did not,” said Clement. “Aye, and you too! But that comes naturally, and began in babyhood!” “What have you done with the house at Brompton?” “Martha is taking care of it--Mrs. Lightfoot, don’t you know? One of our old interminable little Lightfoots, who went to be a printer in London, married, and lost his wife; then in our break-up actually married Martha to take care of his children! Now he is dead, and I am thankful to have her in the house.” “To frighten loafers with her awful squint.” “You forgive the rejection of ‘The Inspector’s Tour’? Indeed I think you expected it.” “I wanted to see whether the young ladies would find it out.” “No compliment to our genius,” said his aunt. “I assure you, like Mrs. Bennet, ‘there is plenty of that sort of thing,’” said Anna. “Some of them were mystified, but Gillian and Dolores Mohun were in ecstasies.” “Ecstasies from that cheerful name?” “She is the New Zealand niece--Mr. Maurice Mohun’s daughter. They carried it home to their seniors, and of course the verdict was ‘too strong for Rockquay atmosphere,’” said his aunt. “So it did not even go to Uncle Lance,” said Anna. “Shall you try the ‘Pursuivant’?” “On the contrary, I shall put in the pepper and salt I regretted, and try the ‘Censor’.”