But it is hard to escape heredity.  Albeit to young Mr Benny pure literature made no appeal, and had even been summarised by him as “footle,” in the business of advertising he developed a curious literary twist.  He could not exhibit a new line of goods without inventing an arresting set of labels for it; and upon these labels (executed with his own hands in water-colour upon cardboard) he let play a fancy almost Asiatic.  Not content with mere description, such as “Neck-wear in Up-to-date Helios” or “Braces, Indispensable,” he assailed the coy purchaser with appeals frankly personal, such as “You passed us Yesterday, but We Hit you this time,” or (of pyjamas) “What!  You don’t Tell us You Go to Bed like your Grandfather,” or (of a collar) “If you Admire Lord Rosebery, Now is Your Time.”

Captain Cai wanted a hat.  “I be just returned from foreign,” he explained; “and this here head-gear o’ mine—­”

Young Mr Benny smiled with a smile that deprecated his being drawn into criticism.  “We keep ahead of the Germans yet, sir,—­in some respects.  Is it Captain Hocken I have the pleasure of addressin’?”

“Now, how did he know that?” Captain Cai murmured.

“Why, by your hat,” answered Mr Philp with readiness.

“You’ll be wanting something more nautical, Captain?  Something yachty, if I may suggest. . . .  I’ve a neat thing here in yachting caps.”  Mr Benny selected and displayed one, turning it briskly in his hands.  “The Commodore.  There’s a something about that cap, sir,—­a what shall I say?—­a distinction.  Or, if you prefer a straight up-and-down peak, what about the Squadron here?  A little fuller in the crown, you’ll observe; but that”—­with a flattering glance—­“would suit you.  You’d carry it off.”

“Better have it full in the crown,” suggested Mr Philp; “by reason it’s handier to carry things.”

“None of your seafarin’ gear, I’ll thank you,” said Captain Cai hastily.  “I’ve hauled ashore.”

“And mean to settle among us, I hope, sir? . . .  Well, then, with the summer already upon us—­so to speak—­what do we say to a real Panama straw?  The Boulter’s Lock here, f’r instance,—­extra brim—­at five and sixpence?  How these foreigners do it for the money is a mystery to me.”

“I see they puts ‘Smith Brothers, Birmingham,’ in the lining,” said Captain Cai.

“Importers’ mark, sir,—­to insure genuineness. . . .  Let me see, what size were you saying?  H’m, six-seven-eighths, as I should judge.”  Young Mr Benny pulled out a drawer with briskness, ran his hand through a number of genuine Panamas of identical pattern, selected one, and poised it on the tips of his fingers, giving it the while a seductive twist.  “If you will stand so, Captain, while I tilt the glass a trifle?”

Captain Cai gazed hardily at his reflection in the mirror.  “It don’t seem altogether too happy wi’ the rest of the togs,” he hazarded, and consulted Mr Philp.  “What do you think?”