There was a chorus of exclamations. “Well, he was asking Mansfield to recommend him a good butler for a gentleman’s establishment. Salary no object, if man satisfactory. I confess I ran away. Lady Condor, if you will drink another cup of tea I should love to fetch it for you, but it is plainly not my fault if you will encourage my wife to entertain these people.” “You would never entertain anybody if you had your own way,” said his wife. “I would always entertain Lady Condor. Or rather, I am always sure Lady Condor will entertain me.” “Well, I am delighted with Mr. Pithey,” announced Lady Condor, reoccupying her chair, and enjoying the sensation she created. “Yes. In Mr. Pithey I see our—now what is the word I want?—oh yes—our avenger! The people have dethroned Us. They are taxing Us out of existence. Condor told me this morning he must put the Cleve estate into the market. I shall be lucky if I keep my diamonds, and poor Hawkhurst will be lucky if he and his wife don’t end in the workhouse. But where was I? I had got it all in my head just now. If only I could write it all down directly I think of it, I could make my fortune as a writer of leaders in a daily paper. Yes. They have dethroned Us, and they will get Pitheys, dozens of Pitheys, instead. We shall be ruined, obsolete, extinct, but we shall be revenged. They will get Pitheys in our place. Heaven be praised! The old _nouveaux riches_ were bearable. They had reverence, they recognized their limitations, they were prepared to be taught. Look at you dear people, of course we have all known about the margarine. And you, dear Nita, yours was wine—or was it mineral water?—something to drink, wasn’t it? We needn’t hide anything now, because the Pitheys will strip everything bare. If you dear things had come here with 2½d. a year, and lived in a villa, we should never have known you. And yet—yes, now I have it—yet really and truly, Roger was the real aristocracy. The aristocracy of brains. The margarine and wine didn’t matter, nor did the money—at least, I mean it ought not to have. I’m getting terribly muddled! And where is my scarf? Did I drop it when I got up? Oh, here it is. You see, We made the aristocracy of wealth. We couldn’t resist the shoots in Scotland for the boys, and the balls for the girls, and the snug directorships on big companies. Yes—we smirched our position—our grandfathers and grandmothers would never have done it. And now here we are positively being patronized—yes, dear Arthur—patronized by Pitheys. I think I have gone off on to another tack. It was losing my scarf! But I am delighted with Pithey. He will avenge Us on the masses—Pithey the Avenger—yes. But I should have put it much better if I could have said it while he was here. Arthur, do look more cheerful! Think of Pithey as the avenger. It makes him so bearable. And I will have that cup of tea, Roger!”