one a lick of work after that. He said he couldn't bring
himself down to it; that it was demeanin' fo' a person of title fo' to
labor with his hands like a nigger or a common white man. He said he'd
leave it to his family to see he didn't come to want, it didn't so much
matter about them; and he lived true to his principles to the day of his
death, and never riz his hand except to feed himself."

Cavendish paused. Yancy was feeling that in his own person he had
experienced some of the best symptoms of a title.

"Then what?" he asked.

"Well, sir, he lived along like that, never complainin', my grandfather
said, but mighty sweet and gentlelike as long as there was plenty to eat
in the house. He lived to be nigh eighty, and when he seen he was
goin' to die he called my grandfather to him and says, 'She's yours,
Dick,'--meanin' the title--and then he says, 'There's one thing I've
kep' from you. You've been a viscount ever since I come into the title,
and then he went on and explained what he wanted cut on his tombstone,
and had my grandfather write it out, so there couldn't be any mistake.
When he'd passed away, my grandfather took the title. He said it made
him feel mighty solemn and grand-like, and it come over him all at once
why it was his father hadn't no heart fo' work."

"Does it always take 'em that way?" inquired Yancy.

"It takes the Earls of Lambeth that way. I reckon you might say it was
hereditary with 'em. Where was I at?"

"Your grandpap, the second earl," prompted Polly.

"Oh, yes--well, he 'lowed he'd emigrate back to England, but while
he was studying how he could do this, along come the war. He said he
couldn't afford to fight agin his king, so he pulled out and crossed the
mountings to avoid being drug into the army. He said he couldn't let it
get around that the Earls of Lambeth was shootin' English soldiers."

"Of course he couldn't," agreed Yancy.

"It's been my dream to take Polly and the children and go back to
England and see the king about my title. I 'low he'd be some surprised
to see us. I'd like to tell him, too, what the Earls of Lambeth done fo'
him--that they was always loyal, and thought a heap better of him than
their neighbors done, and mebby some better than he deserved. Don't you
reckon that not hearin' from us, he's got the notion the Cavendishes has
petered out?"

Mr. Yancy considered this likely, and said so.

"You might send him writin' in a letter," he suggested.

Th