e had been there on a footing of
perfect equality, so far as he saw, with the sons of aristocratic
families or of great City potentates. And as to birth, he had behind him
three generations at least of scholarly men, men who knew the contents,
as well as the commercial value, of the books they handled.

His grandfather had been a man of note in his calling. The tradition of
Lord Althorp's confidence in him, and of how he requited it by
securing Caxton's "Golden Legend" for the library of that distinguished
collector, under the very nose of his hot rival, the Duke of
Marlborough, was tenderly cherished as an heirloom in the old shop.
And Thorpe's father, too, though no such single achievement crowned his
memory, had been the adviser and, as one might say, the friend of many
notable writers and patrons of literature. The son of such forbears
needed only money to be recognized by everybody as a gentleman.

On his mother's side, now that he thought of it, there was something
perhaps better still than a heritage of librarians' craft and tastes.
His mother's maiden name was Stormont, and he remembered well enough the
solemnity with which she had always alluded to the fact, in the course
of domestic discussions. Who the Stormonts were he could not recall that
he had ever learned, but his mother had been very clear indeed about
their superiority to the usual ruck of people. He would ask his sister
whether she knew anything about them. In the meantime there was no
denying that Stormont was a fine-sounding name. He reflected that it
was his own middle name--and, on the instant, fancy engraved for him a
card-plate on which appeared the legend--"Mr. Stormont Thorpe."

It was an inspiration! "Joel" he had not used for so many years that now,
after six months' familiarity with it on his sister's lips, he could not
get accustomed to it. The colourless and non-committal style of "J. S.
Thorpe," under which he had lived so long, had been well enough for the
term of his exile--the weary time of obscure toil and suspense. But now,
in this sunburst of smiling fortune, when he had achieved the right to a
name of distinction--here it was ready to his hand. A fleeting question
as to whether he should carry the "J" along as an initial put itself
to his mind. He decided vigorously against it. He had always had a
prejudice against men who, in the transatlantic phrase, parted either
their hair or their names in the middle.

He had made his unh