"It's pretty evident you don't think much of a draper," he said

abruptly.

Another interval. "Hundreds of men," she said, "have come from the very

lowest ranks of life. There was Burns, a ploughman; and Hugh Miller, a

stonemason; and plenty of others. Dodsley was a footman--"

But drapers! We're too sort of shabby genteel to rise. Our coats and

cuffs might get crumpled--"

"Wasn't there a Clarke who wrote theology? He was a draper."

There was one started a sewing cotton, the only one I ever heard tell

of."

Have you ever read 'Hearts Insurgent'?"

Never," said Mr. Hoopdriver. He did not wait for her context, but

suddenly broke out with an account of his literary requirements. "The

fact is--I've read precious little. One don't get much of a chance,

situated as I am. We have a library at business, and I've gone through

that. Most Besant I've read, and a lot of Mrs. Braddon's and Rider

Haggard and Marie Corelli--and, well--a Ouida or so. They're good

stories, of course, and first-class writers, but they didn't seem to

have much to do with me. But there's heaps of books one hears talked

222

The Wheels of Chance