"Hardly!" laughed Constable. "I do not mean among those we know, but among those we do not know. Though, for the matter of that, if we go back a generation or two, it might apply to us, also. How do you know, Herford, that your out-coming ancestor did not change his name?"
"Do you mean to imply——"
"Now, do not get excited—we are arguing an abstract question——"
"Which you have turned into a personal question."
"Then I will change it. How do I know, that the original Constable, in America, did not go under some other name in England.—I don't—you don't—no one knows. We take each other on faith, the only difference with us is, that the faith extends back over a generation or two." He glanced around him. Miss Marbury was not in hearing. "There is old Marbury, for instance. He is new. How do we know his name is Marbury? He says it is—so far as we are informed, he has always said it is, but we do not know. We take him on faith. We take almost every one on faith. Is it not so, Parkington?"
"Undoubtedly," was the answer. "The only advantage we, of England, have is a few more generations."
"A few more generations!" exclaimed Herford. "You, who have them can afford to be indifferent. It is we, who have only one, or two, or, at the most, three who have to be careful."
"I do not quite grasp your point," said Parkington.
"It is plain as I can make it," was the retort.