Jimmy’s face grew much pinker than manganous salts. He knew that his friend was only up to his old tricks, but this was pretty raw stuff. It was rotten bad taste to rag a man about his name—just as bad as to ask questions about a mutilated stump. But Jimmy gave voice to none of these sentiments. His heavy jaw was set, his small lips were compressed until he thought of the proper parliamentary phrase. “Marvin, I suppose we are all descended from serfs, but I’m not responsible for forms of ridicule indulged in by swineherds of the present day.” “James, James, I blush to hear you call your philanthropic employer a swineherd.” “What—” but Jimmy did not finish the question. He remained haughtily and hotly silent until he could once more speak like a gentleman. “I was not aware that you knew Mr. Ferry.” “I did not until a few days ago. I went to his house to ask his daughter to marry me. He couldn’t quite see it, but his manners were not those of a swineherd.” Silence. Jimmy’s self control was perfect now, but his wrath was coruscating. “I saw Gratia later, and she refused me.” Instantly the heat was quenched. “She refused me because she did not love me. Of course if she loved a man, she’d marry him no matter how impossible a name he bore. I asked her one or two questions about you, and she timidly expressed a wish that hogs were woolly. I don’t think you can blame girls for such feelings. They’re sensitive, you know.” “Yes,” said Jimmy. “Finer organization.” “You bet. Now, wouldn’t your mother’s name do just as well for you as your father’s?” “I’m not an Endicott, but perhaps I could spell my last name ‘Hogue.’ Do you think that would please her?” “I’m sure it would.” Chapter 26. Iron Our hero collected a light camping outfit and loitered in town till he was mustered out. His release came on the last day of June, just after the death of the aged Lord Rayleigh, whose beautiful scientific work and beautiful old face had long commanded his reverence. That a baron should have gone over the whole field of physics, re-weighing, clearing up all sorts of uncertainties, seemed to Marvin a proof of the good time coming. He had heard of other English barons, for instance Fortinbras, who were essentially democratic, but Rayleigh bore away the palm from them all. Fortinbras was interested only in navies, but Rayleigh’s argon would eventually prove more important than all the navies on earth. Early in July he went by boat to Mackinac, secured a launch and an engineer, and in three days set foot on every island in the St. Mary’s. Most of them lay too far from the channel, but he made note of two, lying about four miles apart, that seemed exactly the thing his father wanted. Who owned them he had as yet no means of knowing.