a wish that he had not joined the great and noble ranks of martyrdom, but

had stayed at home and been content to be merely an earl and nothing

better, with nothing more to do in this world of a useful sort than an

earl finds to do. But he smothered that part of his thought as well as

he could; he made every effort to drive it away, and with fair keep it

from intruding a little success, but he couldn't now and then, and when

it intruded it came suddenly and nipped him like a bite, a sting, a burn.

He recognized that thought by the peculiar sharpness of its pang. The

others were painful enough, but that one cut to the quick when it calm.

Night after night he lay tossing to the music of the hideous snoring of

the honest bread-winners until two and three o'clock in the morning,

then got up and took refuge on the roof, where he sometimes got a nap and

sometimes failed entirely. His appetite was leaving him and the zest of

life was going along with it. Finally, owe day, being near the imminent

verge of total discouragement, he said to himself--and took occasion to

blush privately when he said it, "If my father knew what my American name

is,--he--well, my duty to my father rather requires that I furnish him my

name. I have no right to make his days and nights unhappy, I can do

enough unhappiness for the family all by myself. Really he ought to know

what my American name is." He thought over it a while and framed a

cablegram in his mind to this effect:

"My American name is Howard Tracy."

That wouldn't be suggesting anything. His father could understand that

as he chose, and doubtless he would understand it as it was meant, as a

142

The American Claimant