Silence fell.  Mr. Crocker drank cold coffee.  His wife stared with gleaming eyes into the glorious future.

“Do you mean that I shall have to stop on here till they make me a lord?” said Mr. Crocker limply.

“Yes.”

“Never go back to America?”

“Not till we have succeeded.”

“Oh Gee!  Oh Gosh!  Oh Hell!” said Mr. Crocker, bursting the bonds of years.

Mrs. Crocker though resolute, was not unkindly.  She made allowances for her husband’s state of mind.  She was willing to permit even American expletives during the sinking-in process of her great idea, much as a broad-minded cowboy might listen indulgently to the squealing of a mustang during the branding process.  Docility and obedience would be demanded of him later, but not till the first agony had abated.  She spoke soothingly to him.

“I am glad we have had this talk, Bingley.  It is best that you should know.  It will help you to realise your responsibilities.  And that brings me back to James.  Thank goodness Lord Percy Whipple is in town.  He is about James’ age, and from what Lady Corstorphine tells me will be an ideal friend for him.  You understand who he is, of course?  The second son of the Duke of Devizes, the Premier’s closest friend, the man who can practically dictate the Birthday Honours.  If James and Lord Percy can only form a close friendship, our battle will be as good as won.  It will mean everything.  Lady Corstorphine has promised to arrange a meeting.  In the meantime, I will speak to James and warn him to be more careful.”

Mr. Crocker had produced a stump of pencil from his pocket and was writing on the table-cloth.

    Lord Crocker
    Lord Bingley Crocker
    Lord Crocker of Crocker
    The Marquis of Crocker
    Baron Crocker
    Bingley, first Viscount Crocker

He blanched as he read the frightful words.  A sudden thought stung him.

“Eugenia!”

“Well?”

“What will the boys at the Lambs say?”

“I am not interested,” replied his wife, “in the boys at the Lambs.”

“I thought you wouldn’t be,” said the future baron gloomily.

CHAPTER III

FAMILY JARS

It is a peculiarity of the human mind that, with whatever apprehension it may be regarding the distant future, it must return after a while to face the minor troubles of the future that is immediate.  The prospect of a visit to the dentist this afternoon causes us to forget for the moment the prospect of total ruin next year.  Mr. Crocker, therefore, having tortured himself for about a quarter of an hour with his meditations on the subject of titles, was jerked back to a more imminent calamity than the appearance of his name in the Birthday Honours—­the fact that in all probability he would be taken again this morning to watch the continuation of that infernal cricket-match, and would be compelled to spend the greater part of to-day, as he had spent the greater part of yesterday, bored to the verge of dissolution in the pavilion at Lord’s.