"Yes, here it is. A cave-bear rampant! Oscar, it's the crest of the
Cave-Canems, one of the oldest families in Britain, if not the very
oldest! Poor things, I feel so sorry for them. Perhaps I might offer
him some vegetables."

"And to think of their having to live in a cave again after all these
centuries," said my wife when she returned. "Isn't it pathetic? Oscar,
don't you think we ought to call on them?"

We agreed that it was our duty to call on the distinguished
cave-dwellers. But what ought we to wear? They dressed very simply; I
had seen him in an old tweed suit and a soft felt hat.

"And his wife," Matilda said, "is positively dowdy. But that proves
they are somebody. Only the very best people can afford to wear shabby
clothes in these times."

We decided that in our case it was necessary to recognise the polite
usages of society. So my wife wore her foliage green silk, and I my
ordinary Sabbath attire.

A fragrant odour of vegetables cooking led us eventually to the
little mound amidst the gorse where our aristocratic visitors were
temporarily residing. There was some difficulty at first in attracting
their attention, but this I overcame by tying our visiting-cards to
a piece of string and dangling it down the tunnel that served as an
entrance. After coughing several times I had a bite, and the cave-man
showed himself.

"Hallo!" I heard him say, laughing, "it's the kind Philistines who