honorable descent and by his alliance with the Tristrams. The family
instinct was very strong in him. Among the rubbish he bought somebody
else's pedigree was often to be found. His wife's hung framed on the
wall (ending with "Adelaide Louisa Aimee" in large letters for one
branch, and "Cecily" in small for the other); his own was the constant
subject of unprofitable searchings in county histories--one aspect of
his remarkable genius for the unremunerative in all its respectable
forms. He worked very hard and gave the impression of doing nothing--and
the impression perhaps possessed the higher truth. Anyhow, while he and
his had (thanks to a very small property which came with the late Mrs
Gainsborough) always just enough to eat, they had always just not enough
of anything else; short commons were the rule.

And now they were going to Blent. Sloyd, calling on a matter of business
and pleasantly excusing his intrusion by the payment of some fees, had
heard about it from Gainsborough. "This'll just take us to Blent!" the
little gentleman had observed with satisfaction as he waved the slip of
paper. Sloyd knew Blent and could take an interest; he described it,
raising his voice so that it travelled beyond the room and reached the
hammock in the garden where Cecily lay. She liked a hammock, and her
father could not stand china figures and vases on it, so that it secured
her where to lay her head. Gainsborough was very fussy over the news; a
deeper but quieter excitement glowed in Cecily's eyes as, listening to
Sloyd, she feigned to pay no heed. She had designs on the check. Beauty
unadorned may mean several things; but moralists cannot be right in
twisting the commendation of it into a eulogium on thread-bare frocks.
She must have a funeral frock.

Sloyd came to the door which opened on the garden, and greeted her. He
was as smart as usual, his tie a new creation, his hat mirroring the
sun. Cecily was shabby from necessity and somewhat touzled from lolling
in the hammock. She looked up at him, smiling in a lazy amusement.

"Do you ever wear the same hat twice?" she asked.

"Must have a good hat in my profession, Miss Gainsborough. You never
know where you'll be sent for. The Duchess of This, or Lady That, loses
her money at cards--or the Earl drops a bit at Newmarket--must let the
house for the season--sends off for me--mustn't catch me in an old hat!"

"Yes, I see!"

"Besides, you may say what you like, but a gentlem