my feet in the air, rolled on my side and sat up suddenly on my
deck chair with my legs down.

"You don't mean it!" I said.

"Mean what, George?"

"Subscription to the party funds. Reciprocal advantage. Have we got to
that?"

"Whad you driving at, George?"

"You know. They'd never do it, man!"

"Do what?" he said feebly; and, "Why shouldn't they?"

"They'd not even go to a baronetcy. NO!.... And yet, of course, there's
Boom! And Collingshead and Gorver. They've done beer, they've done
snippets! After all Tono-Bungay--it's not like a turf commission
agent or anything like that!... There have of course been some very
gentlemanly commission agents. It isn't like a fool of a scientific man
who can't make money!"

My uncle grunted; we'd differed on that issue before.

A malignant humour took possession of me. "What would they call you?"
I speculated. "The vicar would like Duffield. Too much like Duffer!
Difficult thing, a title." I ran my mind over various possibilities.
"Why not take a leaf from a socialist tract I came upon yesterday. Chap
says we're all getting delocalised. Beautiful word--delocalised! Why not
be the first delocalised peer? That gives you--Tono-Bungay! There is a
Bungay, you know. Lord Tono of Bungay--in bottles everywhere. Eh?"

My uncle astonished me by losing his temper.

"Damn it. George, you don't seem to see I'm serious! You're always
sneering at Tono-Bungay! As though it was some sort of swindle. It was
perfec'ly legitimate trade, perfec'ly legitimate. Good value and a
good article.... When I come up here and tell you plans and exchange
idees--you sneer at me. You do. You don't see--it's a big thing. It's
a big thing. You got to get used to new circumstances. You got to face
what lies before us. You got to drop that tone."

IX

My uncle was not altogether swallowed up in business and ambition. He
kept in touch with modern thought. For example, he was, I know, greatly
swayed by what he called "This Overman idee, Nietzsche--all that stuff."

He mingled those comforting suggestions of a potent and exceptional
human being emancipated from the pettier limitations of integrity with
the Napoleonic legend. It gave his imagination a considerable outlet.
That Napoleonic legend! The real mischief of Napoleon's immensely
disastrous and accidental career began only when he was dead and the
romantic type of mind was free to elaborate his character. I do believe
that my uncle would have made a