“I’ll take her,” said Mademoiselle Le Breton.

She knelt down by the child, who rose with alacrity.  Catching her skirts round her, with one eye half laughing, half timorous, turned over her shoulder towards the dog, the baby made a wild spring into Mademoiselle Julie’s arms, tucking up her feet instantly, with a shriek of delight, out of the dog’s way.  Then she nestled her fair head down upon her bearer’s shoulder, and, throbbing with joy and mischief, was carried away.

Sir Wilfrid, hat in hand, stood for a moment watching the pair.  A bygone marriage uniting the Lackington family with that of the Duchess had just occurred to him in some bewilderment.  He sat down beside his hostess, while she made him some tea.  But no sooner had the door of the farther drawing-room closed behind Mademoiselle Le Breton, than with a dart of all her lively person she pounced upon him.

“Well, so Aunt Flora has been complaining to you?”

Sir Wilfrid’s cup remained suspended in his hand.  He glanced first at the speaker and then at Jacob Delafield.

“Oh, Jacob knows all about it!” said the Duchess, eagerly.  “This is Julie’s headquarters; we are on her staff. You come from the enemy!”

Sir Wilfrid took out his white silk handkerchief and waved it.

“Here is my flag of truce,” he said.  “Treat me well.”

“We are only too anxious to parley with you,” said the Duchess, laughing.  “Aren’t we, Jacob?”

Then she drew closer.

“What has Aunt Flora been saying to you?”

Sir Wilfrid paused.  As he sat there, apparently studying his boots, his blond hair, now nearly gray, carefully parted in the middle above his benevolent brow, he might have been reckoned a tame and manageable person.  Jacob Delafield, however, knew him of old.

“I don’t think that’s fair,” said Sir Wilfrid, at last, looking up.  “I’m the new-comer; I ought to be allowed the questions.”

“Go on,” said the Duchess, her chin on her hand.  “Jacob and I will answer all we know.”

Delafield nodded.  Sir Wilfrid, looking from one to the other, quickly reminded himself that they had been playmates from the cradle—­or might have been.

“Well, in the first place,” he said, slowly, “I am lost in admiration at the rapidity with which Mademoiselle Le Breton does business.  An hour and a half ago”—­he looked at his watch—­“I stood by while Lady Henry enumerated commissions it would have taken any ordinary man-mortal half a day to execute.”

The Duchess clapped her hands.

“My maid is now executing them,” she said, with glee.  “In an hour she will be back.  Julie will go home with everything done, and I shall have had nearly two hours of her delightful society.  What harm is there in that?”

“Where are the dogs?” said Sir Wilfrid, looking round.

“Aunt Flora’s dogs?  In the housekeeper’s room, eating sweet biscuit.  They adore the groom of the chambers.”