“A whole lot, ma’am.  If a man had two chimneys to his house we always called him Colonel, if there was four chimneys we called him General.”

“La!” cried Polly, smiling and showing a number of new dimples.  “Dick don’t mean militia titles, Mr. Yancy.”

“Them’s the only ones I know anything of,” confessed Yancy.

“Ever hear tell of lords?” inquired Chills and Fever, tilting his head on one side.

“No.”  And Yancy was quick to notice the look of disappointment on the faces of his new friends.  He felt that for some reason, which was by no means clear to him, he had lost caste.

“Are you ever heard of royalty?” and Cavendish fixed the invalid’s wandering glance.

“You mean kings?”

“I shore do.”

Yancy regarded him reflectively and made a mighty mental effort.

“There’s them Bible kings—­” he ventured at length.

Mr. Cavendish shook his head.

“Them’s sacred kings.  Are you familiar with any of the profane kings, Mr. Yancy?”

“Well, taking them as they come, them Bible kings seemed to average pretty profane.”  Yancy was disposed to defend this point.

“You must a heard of the kings of England.  Sho’, wa’n’t any of yo’ folks in the war agin’ him?”

“I’d plumb forgot, why my daddy fit all through that war!” exclaimed Yancy.  The Cavendishes were immensely relieved.  Polly beamed on the invalid, and the children hunched closer.  Six pairs of eager lips were trembling on the verge of speech.

“Now you-all keep still,” said Cavendish.  “I want Mr. Yancy should get the straight of this here!  The various orders of royalty are kings, dukes, earls and lords.  Earls is the third from the top of the heap, but lords ain’t no slouch; it’s a right neat little title, and them that has it can turn round in most any company.”

“Dick had ought to know, fo’ he’s an earl himself,” cried Polly exultantly, unable to restrain herself any longer, while a mutter came from the six little Cavendishes who had been wonderfully silent for them.

“Sho’, Richard Keppel Cavendish, Earl of Lambeth!  ‘Sho’, that was what he was!  Sho’!” and some transient feeling of awe stamped itself upon their small faces as they viewed the long and limber figure of their parent.

“Is that mo’ than a Colonel?” Yancy risked the question hesitatingly, but he felt that speech was expected from him.

“Yes,” said the possessor of the title.

“Would a General lay it over you any?”

“No, sir, he wouldn’t.”

Yancy gazed respectfully but uncertainly at Chills and Fever.

“Then all I got to say is that I’ve traveled considerably, mostly between Scratch Hill and Balaam’s Cross Roads, meeting with all kinds of folks; but I never seen an earl afo.  I take it they are some scarce.”

“They are.  I don’t reckon there’s another one but me in the whole United States.”