'll call 'oo old Cross
and then Aunt Dina 'on't like 'oo."

"I wish you would not call the child nicknames, Adolphus. It seems as
though you would wish to cast a slur upon the one which he bears."

"I should hardly think that he would feel disposed to do that," said
Mr Gazebee.

"Hardly, indeed," said Crosbie.

"It has never yet been disgraced in the annals of our country by
being made into a nickname," said the proud daughter of the house.
She was probably unaware that among many of his associates her father
had been called Lord de Curse'ye, from the occasional energy of
his language. "And any such attempt is painful in my ears. I think
something of my family, I can assure you, Adolphus, and so does my
husband."

"A very great deal," said Mr Gazebee.

"So do I of mine," said Crosbie. "That's natural to all of us. One of
my ancestors came over with William the Conqueror. I think he was one
of the assistant cooks in the king's tent."

"A cook!" said young de Courcy.

"Yes, my boy, a cook. That was the way most of our old families were
made noble. They were cooks, or butlers to the kings,--or sometimes
something worse."

"But your family isn't noble?"

"No;--I'll tell you how that was. The king wanted this cook to poison
half-a-dozen of his officers who wished to have a way of their
own; but the cook said, 'No, my Lord King; I am a cook, not an
executioner.' So they sent him into the scullery, and when they
called all the other servants barons and lords, they only called him
Cookey. They've changed the name to Crosbie since that, by degrees."

Mr Gazebee was awestruck, and the face of the Lady Amelia became
very dark. Was it not evident that this snake, when taken into their
innermost bosoms that they might there warm him, was becoming an
adder, and preparing to sting them? There was very little more
conversation that evening, and soon after the story of the cook,
Crosbie got up and went away to his own home.

CHAPTER XXXVI

"See, the Conquering Hero Comes"

John Eames had reached his office precisely at twelve o'clock, but
when he did so he hardly knew whether he was standing on his heels
or his head. The whole morning had been to him one of intense
excitement, and latterly, to a certain extent, one of triumph. But
he did not at all know what might be the results. Would he be taken
before a magistrate and locked up? Would there be a row at the
office? Would Crosbie call him out, and, if so, wo