father's secretary, had resigned along with his chief, somewhat
foolishly as was thought at the time, and on succeeding some months
later to the title, had set himself to the serious study of the great
aristocratic art of doing absolutely nothing. He had two large town
houses, but preferred to live in chambers, as it was less trouble, and
took most of his meals at his club. He paid some attention to the
management of his collieries in the Midland counties, excusing himself
for this taint of industry on the ground that the one advantage of
having coal was that it enabled a gentleman to afford the decency of
burning wood on his own hearth. In politics he was a Tory, except when
the Tories were in office, during which period he roundly abused them
for being a pack of Radicals. He was a hero to his valet, who bullied
him, and a terror to most of his relations, whom he bullied in turn.
Only England could have produced him, and he always said that the
country was going to the dogs. His principles were out of date, but
there was a good deal to be said for his prejudices.

When Lord Henry entered the room, he found his uncle sitting in a rough
shooting coat, smoking a cheroot, and grumbling over _The Times_. "Well,
Harry," said the old gentleman, "what brings you out so early? I thought
you dandies never got up till two, and were not visible till five."

"Pure family affection, I assure you, Uncle George. I want to get
something out of you."

"Money, I suppose," said Lord Fermor, making a wry face. "Well, sit down
and tell me all about it. Young people, nowadays, imagine that money is
everything."

"Yes," murmured Lord Henry, settling his buttonhole in his coat; "and
when they grow older they know it. But I don't want money. It is only
people who pay their bills who want that, Uncle George, and I never pay
mine. Credit is the capital of a younger son, and one lives charmingly
upon it. Besides, I always deal with Dartmoor's tradesmen, and
consequently they never bother me. What I want is information; not
useful information, of course; useless information."

"Well, I can tell you anything that is in an English Blue-book, Harry,
although those fellows nowadays write a lot of nonsense. When I was in
the Diplomatic, things were much better. But I hear they let them in now
by examination. What can you expect? Examinations, sir, are pure humbug
from beginning to end. If a man is a gentleman, he knows quite enough,
and if he is