“Patent applied for.”

“That will answer.  What do you want for it?”

“What will it retail for?”

“Well, twenty-five cents, I should think.”

“What will you give for the exclusive right?”

“I couldn’t give twenty dollars, if I had to pay cash down; but I’ll tell you what I’ll do.  I’ll make it and market it, and pay you five cents royalty on each one.”

Washington sighed.  Another dream disappeared; no money in the thing.  So he said: 

“All right, take it at that.  Draw me a paper.”  He went his way with the paper, and dropped the matter out of his mind dropped it out to make room for further attempts to think out the most promising way to invest his half of the reward, in case a partnership investment satisfactory to both beneficiaries could not be hit upon.

He had not been very long at home when Sellers arrived sodden with grief and booming with glad excitement—­working both these emotions successfully, sometimes separately, sometimes together.  He fell on Hawkins’s neck sobbing, and said: 

“Oh, mourn with me my friend, mourn for my desolate house:  death has smitten my last kinsman and I am Earl of Rossmore—­congratulate me!”

He turned to his wife, who had entered while this was going on, put his arms about her and said—­“You will bear up, for my sake, my lady—­it had to happen, it was decreed.”

She bore up very well, and said: 

“It’s no great loss.  Simon Lathers was a poor well-meaning useless thing and no account, and his brother never was worth shucks.”

The rightful earl continued: 

“I am too much prostrated by these conflicting griefs and joys to be able to concentrate my mind upon affairs; I will ask our good friend here to break the news by wire or post to the Lady Gwendolen and instruct her to—­”

“What Lady Gwendolen?”

“Our poor daughter, who, alas!—­”

“Sally Sellers?  Mulberry Sellers, are you losing your mind?”

“There—­please do not forget who you are, and who I am; remember your own dignity, be considerate also of mine.  It were best to cease from using my family name, now, Lady Rossmore.”

“Goodness gracious, well, I never!  What am I to call you then?”

“In private, the ordinary terms of endearment will still be admissible, to some degree; but in public it will be more becoming if your ladyship will speak to me as my lord, or your lordship, and of me as Rossmore, or the Earl, or his Lordship, and—­”

“Oh, scat!  I can’t ever do it, Berry.”

“But indeed you must, my love—­we must live up to our altered position and submit with what grace we may to its requirements.”

“Well, all right, have it your own way; I’ve never set my wishes against your commands yet, Mul—­my lord, and it’s late to begin now, though to my mind it’s the rottenest foolishness that ever was.”