And he was so proud of the sentiment that he looked around proudly and mopped his forehead.
"Perhaps they wouldn't be earls if they knew any better," said Cedric, feeling some vague sympathy for their unhappy condition.
"Wouldn't they!" said Mr. Hobbs. "They just glory in it! It's in 'em. They're a bad lot."
They were in the midst of their conversation, when Mary appeared. Cedric thought she had come to buy some sugar, perhaps, but she had not. She looked almost pale and as if she were excited about something.
"Come home, darlint," she said; "the misthress is wantin' yez."
Cedric slipped down from his stool.
"Does she want me to go out with her, Mary?" he asked. "Good-morning, Mr. Hobbs. I'll see you again."
He was surprised to see Mary staring at him in a dumfounded fashion, and he wondered why she kept shaking her head.
"What's the matter, Mary?" he said. "Is it the hot weather?"
"No," said Mary; "but there's strange things happenin' to us."
"Has the sun given Dearest a headache?" he inquired anxiously.
But it was not that. When he reached his own house there was a coupé standing before the door, and some one was in the little parlor talking to his mamma. Mary hurried him upstairs and put on his best summer suit of cream-colored flannel, with the red scarf around his waist, and combed out his curly locks.
"Lords, is it?" he heard her say. "An' the nobility an' gintry. Och! bad cess to them! Lords, indade—worse luck."
It was really very puzzling, but he felt sure his mamma would tell him what all the excitement meant, so he allowed Mary to bemoan herself without asking many questions. When he was dressed, he ran downstairs and went into the parlor. A tall, thin
