"I should suppose it was. I didn't mean an increase in your allowance. Did you never think of dippin' into trade, and increasin' it that way?"
"Never."
"Doesn't fancy elephants or trade," Mr. Pilgrim soliloquised. "Well, I reckon it takes all sorts of swallows to make a summer. Your father must have been in a good way of business."
"Not a bit of it. He inherited all he has from his ancestors."
"And how did the original ancestor make his pile?"
"In war, in the time of Edward III. He had the good fortune to capture a Royal Prince, two dukes, and a marshal of France. We are still living on the ransoms he got."
"I'd like to have known the original ancestor," said Mr. Pilgrim. "Reckon he'd have tackled elephants if he'd only got a pea-shooter."
"Father," broke in Miss Pilgrim, "I'm sure Lord Roker is tired of answering questions. Don't you think it's our turn to do something now?"
"That's so," said Mr. Pilgrim, who long since had forgotten his unkind suspicions of his visitor's intentions. "I hope I haven't worried you too much, my lord. It isn't every day that I get the chance of interviewin' a future hereditary legislator. I promised last night to show you some historical curiosities. We'll just go an' rout out my secretary, Tullitt, who has the keepin' of 'em."