"
"La!" cried Polly, smiling and showing a number of new dimples.
"Dick don't mean militia titles, Mr. Yancy."
"Them's the only ones I know anything of," confessed Yancy.
"Ever hear tell of lords?" inquired Chills and Fever, tilting his
head on one side.
"No." And Yancy was quick to notice the look of disappointment
on the faces of his new friends. He felt that for some reason,
which was by no means clear to him, he had lost caste.
"Are you ever heard of royalty?" and Cavendish fixed the
invalid's wandering glance.
"You mean kings?"
"I shore do."
Yancy regarded him reflectively and made a mighty mental effort.
"There's them Bible kings--" he ventured at length.
Mr. Cavendish shook his head.
"Them's sacred kings. Are you familiar with any of the profane
kings, Mr. Yancy?"
"Well, taking them as they come, them Bible kings seemed to
average pretty profane." Yancy was disposed to defend this
point.
"You must a heard of the kings of England. Sho', wa'n't any of
yo' folks in the war agin' him?"
"I'd plumb forgot, why my daddy fit all through that war!"
exclaimed Yancy. The Cavendishes were immensely relieved. Polly
beamed on the invalid, and the children hunched closer. Six
pairs of eager lips were trembling on the verge of speech.
"Now you-all keep still," said Cavendish. "I want Mr. Yancy
should get the straight of this here! The various orders of
royalty are kings, dukes, earls and lords. Earls is the third
from the top of the heap, but lords ain't no slouch; it's a right
neat little title, and them that has it can turn round in most
any company.
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