“We have put you in what we call—­for fun—­our state-rooms.  Various Royalties had them last year.  They’re in a special wing.  We keep them for emergencies.  And the fact is we haven’t got another corner.”

Doris, in dismay, took the smiling lady by the arm.

“I can’t live up to it!  Please let us go to the inn.”

But Meadows and Miss Field mocked at her; and she was soon ushered into a vast bedroom, in the midst of which, on a Persian carpet, sat her diminutive bag, now empty.  Various elegant “confections” in the shape of tea-gowns and dressing-gowns littered the bed and the chairs.  The toilet-table showed an array of coroneted brushes.  As for the superb Empire bed, which had belonged to Queen Hortense, and was still hung with the original blue velvet sprinkled with golden bees, Doris eyed it with a firm hostility.

“We needn’t sleep in it,” she whispered in Meadows’s ear.  “There are two sofas.”

Meanwhile Miss Field and others flitted about, adding all the luxuries of daily use to the splendour of the rooms.  Gardeners appeared bringing in flowers, and an anxious maid, on behalf of her ladyship, begged that Mrs. Meadows would change her travelling dress for a comfortable white tea-gown, before tea-time, suggesting another “creation” in black and silver for dinner.  Doris, frowning and reluctant, would have refused; but Miss Field said softly “Won’t you?  Rachel will be so distressed if she mayn’t do these little things for you.  Of course she doesn’t deserve it; but—­”

“Oh yes—­I’ll put them on—­if she likes,” said Doris, hurriedly.  “It doesn’t matter.”

Miss Field laughed.  “I don’t know where all these things come from,” she said, looking at the array.  “Rachel buys half of them for her maids, I should think—­she never wears them.  Well, now I shall leave you till tea-time.  Tea will be on the lawn—­Mr. Meadows knows where.  By the way—­” she looked, smiling, at Meadows—­“they’ve put off the Duke.  If you only knew what that means.”

She named a great Scotch name, the chief of the ancient house to which Lady Dunstable belonged.  Miss Field described how this prince of Dukes paid a solemn visit every year to Franick Castle, and the eager solicitude—­almost agitation—­with which the visit was awaited, by Lady Dunstable in particular.

“You don’t mean,” cried Doris, “that there is anybody in the whole world who frightens Lady Dunstable?”

“As she frightens us?  Yes!—­on this one day of the year we are all avenged.  Rachel, metaphorically, sits on a stool and tries to please.  To put off ‘the Duke’ by telephone!—­what a horrid indignity!  But I’ve just inflicted it.”

Mattie Field smiled, and was just going away when she was arrested by a timid question from Doris.

“Please—­shall Arthur go down to Pitlochry and engage a room for Miss Wigram?”

Miss Field turned in amusement.

“A room!  Why, it’s all ready!  She is your lady-in-waiting.”