No
point was lost upon his hearers; they laughed till the ladies in the
drawing-room above wondered what the joke could be.
"At any rate," said Bellingham, "the fellow behaved magnificently at
the fire. I read the accounts of it."
"I think his exploits owe something to the imagination of the
reporters," said Sewell. "He tells a different story himself."
"Oh, of course!" said Bellingham.
"Well; and what else?" asked Corey.
"There isn't any more. Simply he's out of work, and wants something
to do--anything to do--anything that isn't menial."
"Ah, that's a queer start of his," said Bellingham thoughtfully. "I
don't know but I like that."
"And do you come to such effete posterity as we are for help in a
case like that?" demanded Corey. "Why, the boy's an Ancestor!"
"So he is! Why, so he is--so he is!" said Bellingham, with delight
in the discovery. "Of course he is!"
"All you have to do," pursued Corey, "is to give him time, and he'll
found a fortune and a family, and his children's children will be
cutting ours in society. Half of our great people have come up in
that way. Look at the Blue-book, where our nobility is enrolled;
it's the apotheosis of farm-boys, mechanics, insidemen, and I don't
know what!"
"But in the meantime this ancestor is now so remote that he has
nothing to do," suggested Sewell.
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