“I’ve often wondered what a Commander-in-Chief would look like when being cross-examined,” he remarked. “I’ve wondered whether he’d be anything like my great ancestor of the Queen Anne epoch.”
“Am I?” asked the Duke.
“Well,” Grandolph replied, “I’ve only seen pictures of him, of course, and I can’t exactly say how he would have looked in a similar case, but I don’t think you are much like him.”
“You are disappointed, I suppose?” suggested his august interlocutor.
“Oh no!” replied Grandolph, politely. “Of course you would like any great military contemporary to look like your own illustrious ancestor; but of course you might admire the way your great military contemporary looked, even if he wasn’t like your illustrious ancestor. You know how it is yourself, about admiring your contemporaries.”
The Duke stared. He could hardly be said to know how it was about admiring his contemporaries, many of whom he didn’t admire at all, and some of whom did not altogether admire him.
“Well, and how’s our bit of an Army getting on?” asked little Lord Fauntleroy, airily.
“Our—bit—of—an—Army?” repeated the Duke, in a scattered sort of way.
“Yes,” explained Grandolph, “the bit of an Army we pay such a pile of money for?”
“Ha!” ejaculated his Lordship. “That’s it, is it? The money isn’t spent as you like. You’d like to have the spending of it. What would you buy with it? I should like to hear something about that.”