oked at Jolly to see how his
lordliness was standing it, and with the other eye noted Holly's
malicious pleasure in the slight drop of her brother's face.

"We may suppose him thick and sturdy, standing for England as it was
before the Industrial Era began. The second Jolyon Forsyte--your
great-grandfather, Jolly; better known as Superior Dosset Forsyte--built
houses, so the chronicle runs, begat ten children, and migrated to London
town. It is known that he drank sherry. We may suppose him representing
the England of Napoleon's wars, and general unrest. The eldest of his
six sons was the third Jolyon, your grandfather, my dears--tea merchant
and chairman of companies, one of the soundest Englishmen who ever
lived--and to me the dearest." Jolyon's voice had lost its irony, and
his son and daughter gazed at him solemnly, "He was just and tenacious,
tender and young at heart. You remember him, and I remember him. Pass
to the others! Your great-uncle James, that's young Val's grandfather,
had a son called Soames--whereby hangs a tale of no love lost, and I
don't think I'll tell it you. James and the other eight children of
'Superior Dosset,' of whom there are still five alive, may be said to
have represented Victorian England, with its principles of trade and
individualism at five per cent. and your money back--if you know what
that means. At all events they've turned thirty thousand pounds into a
cool million between them in the course of their long lives. They never
did a wild thing--unless it was your great-uncle Swithin, who I believe
was once swindled at thimble-rig, and was called 'Four-in-hand Forsyte'
because he drove a pair. Their day is passing, and their type, not
altogether for the advantage of the country. They were pedestrian, but
they too were sound. I am the fourth Jolyon Forsyte--a poor holder of
the name--"

"No, Dad," said Jolly, and Holly squeezed his hand.

"Yes," repeated Jolyon, "a poor specimen, representing, I'm afraid,
nothing but the end of the century, unearned income, amateurism, and
individual liberty--a different thing from individualism, Jolly. You are
the fifth Jolyon Forsyte, old man, and you open the ball of the new
century."

As he spoke they turned in through the college gates, and Holly said:
"It's fascinating, Dad."

None of them quite knew what she meant. Jolly was grave.

The Rainbow, distinguished, as only an Oxford hostel can be, for lack of
modernity, provi