I expect; that's enough for any
man, I should think.'

Mr. Cavendish shrugged his shoulders and held his peace. If the
matter had not become a hobby by this time, he would have abandoned
it then and there. As it was, he contented himself by deploring the
sad effects of low association upon the undoubted descendant of a
count, and pondering upon the possibility of introducing a hog in
armour instead of a stag at gaze into the coat-of-arms that he
foresaw would be the result of his researches.

Equally comical is the spectacle of Mrs. Cavendish, on the eve of the
first meeting of the two men, humbly wondering how she could soften the
heart of her discontented lord towards the low-born brother--'how lead
him to pardon, as it were, his benefactor for having dared to benefit
him,' and the subsequent reflection of Cavendish that not only was
wealth an acknowledged power, 'even though pork-sausages should have
been its alleged first cause,' but that, after all, 'politic members of
the great ruling houses in the old world had been known to make
concessions to trade,' and he 'was prepared to make concessions too!'
Accordingly, he resolved that the meeting with his relative should bear
the semblance of cordiality.

'This is a real pleasure, my dear sir,' he said, with ten white
fingers--the fingers of thoroughbred hands--closing round Mr.
Piper's plebeian knuckles. No onlooker could have supposed for an
instant that he had come, with the whole of his family, in an
entirely destitute condition, to live upon his wife's brother.
Besides, we know that among well-bred people, to receive a favour is
virtually to oblige a man. You only accept cordialities from people
you esteem....

'You're welcome, sir,' said Mr. Piper.

Then there was a pause, during which Mrs. Cavendish wiped her eyes,
and Mr. Piper said very heartily, 'You're welcome, the lot of you.'

Cavendish is the only character that the author has treated in a
consistently farcical vein. Eila Frost's canting old father-in-law in
_Not Counting the Cost_ is made ridiculous in his harangue on the duties
of the young wife to her insane husband; but, with this exception,
little is said of him in the story. It would seem that Tasma regards
broadly humorous exaggeration to be scarcely compatible with her
somewhat grave style, for in all the later stories her satire, if not
less pungent, is of a quieter