"
"Then she _doesn't_ know! Fine!"
Mr. Crocker's feet came down from the mantelpiece with a crash.
"Jimmy! You haven't been raising Cain again?"
"No, no, dad. Nothing serious. High-spirited Young Patrician
stuff, the sort of thing that's expected of a fellow in my
position."
Mr. Crocker was not to be comforted.
"Jimmy, you've got to pull up. Honest, you have. I don't care for
myself. I like to see a boy having a good time. But your
stepmother says you're apt to queer us with the people up top,
the way you're going on. Lord knows I wouldn't care if things
were different, but I'll tell you exactly how I stand. I didn't
get wise till this morning. Your stepmother sprang it on me
suddenly. I've often wondered what all this stuff was about, this
living in London and trailing the swells. I couldn't think what
was your stepmother's idea. Now I know. Jimmy, she's trying to
get them to make me a peer!"
"What!"
"Just that. And she says--"
"But, dad, this is rich! This is comedy of a high order! A peer!
Good Heavens, if it comes off, what shall I be? This title
business is all so complicated. I know I should have to change my
name to Hon. Rollo Cholmondeley or the Hon. Aubrey Marjoribanks,
but what I want to know is which? I want to be prepared for the
worst."
"And you see, Jimmy, these people up top, the guys who arrange
the giving of titles, are keeping an eye on you, because you
would have the title after me and naturally they don't want to
get stung.
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