He led the way through the long gallery and down the stairs.
"I'm sorry old Tillotson has been such a disappointment," said Spode sympathetically.
"Let us talk about something else; he ceases to interest me.
"But don't you think we ought to do something about him? He's only got ten pounds between him and the workhouse. And if you'd seen the black-beetles in his basement!"
"Enough enough. I'll do everything you think fitting."
"I thought we might get up a subscription amongst lovers of the arts."
"There aren't any," said Badgery.
"No; but there are plenty of people who will subscribe out of snobbism."
"Not unless you give them something for their money."
"That's true. I hadn't thought of that." Spode was silent for a moment. "We might have a dinner in his honour. The Great Tillotson Banquet. Doyen of the British Art. A Link with the Past. Can't you see it in the papers? I'd make a stunt of it in the World's Review. That ought to bring in the snobs."