The General nodded. "Well, yes," he said politely, "that's exactly
what he is; though, as you seemed to be asking about presumed
relations, I didn't like to mention it."

"Oh, then, he's my ancestor," Bertram put in, quite pleased at the
discovery. "That is to say," he added after a curious pause, "my
ancestor's descendant. Almost all my people, a little way back, you
see, were shoe-makers or cobblers."

He said it with dignity, exactly as he might have said they were
dukes or lord chancellors; but Philip could not help pitying him,
not so much for being descended from so mean a lot, as for being
fool enough to acknowledge it on a gentleman's lawn at Brackenhurst.
Why, with manners like his, if he had not given himself away, one
might easily have taken him for a descendant of the Plantagenets.

So the General seemed to think too, for he added quickly, "But
you're very like the duke, and the duke's a Bertram. Is he also a
relative?"

The young man coloured slightly. "Ye-es," he answered, hesitating;
"but we're not very proud of the Bertram connection. They never did
much good in the world, the Bertrams. I bear the name, one may
almost say by accident, because it was handed down to me by my
grandfather Ingledew, who had Bertram blood, but was a vast deal a
better man than any other member of the Bertram family."

"I'll be seeing the duke on Wednesday," the General put in, with
marked politeness, "and I'll ask him, if you like, about your
grandfather's relationship. Who was he exactly, and what was his