That Hugh’s presence within walking distance of Biddenden Manor might not be conducive either to his happiness or to his self-esteem he did not allow to weigh with him, for he was a man with a strong sense of propriety, and he knew that it was his duty to feel affection for all his brothers and sisters. But the melancholy truth was that he could never be long in company with Hugh without becoming vexed with him. He was a just man, and he did not blame Hugh for being a head taller than himself, and very much slimmer; but he did think that Hugh was to be blamed for supposing that his cloth gave him the right to adopt a censorious attitude towards his elders. Regretfully, Lord Biddenden thought of his second brother, Claud, and wished that he were not, at this particular moment, serving with his regiment in the Army of Occupation in France. He would have been glad to have helped Claud to a fortune, for he liked him, and he foresaw, too, that he would be obliged, at no very distant date, to help him to buy his promotion, if not to do the thing outright. Captain Rattray, though deferential to the head of his house, was expensive.

These reflections were disturbed by Lord Dolphinton, who raised his head again, and gave utterance to the thought which had been slowly germinating in his brain. “I’d as lief not be an Earl,” he said heavily. “Or a Viscount. Freddy’s going to be a Viscount. I wouldn’t wish to be. I wouldn’t wish to be a Baron, though that’s not much. George—”

“Yes, yes, we all know I am a Baron! You need not enumerate the degrees of nobility!” said Biddenden, in an exasperated tone. “You had as lief not be a peer of any degree! I am sure I don’t know what maggot has got into your head now, but that at least I have understood!”

“There is no occasion for you to speak so roughly,” said Hugh. “What would you like to be, Foster?”

Lord Dolphinton sighed. “That’s just it,” he said mournfully. “I wouldn’t like to be a military man. Or a parson. Or a doctor. Or—”