Kitty looked at him in wonder—­a friendly and amiable wonder.  She said it was very kind of him to try and spare her feelings, but, really, anybody might say what they liked of Haggart.  She and William weren’t responsible.

Lord Parham, rather nettled, put on his eye-glass, and, being an obstinate man, still maintained that he saw no reason at all to be dissatisfied with Haggart, from the aesthetic point of view.  Kitty said nothing, but for the first time a gleam of mockery showed itself in her changing look.

Lady Tranmore, always nervously on the watch, moved forward at this point, and Lord Parham, with marked and pompous suavity, transferred his conversation to her.

Thus assured, as he thought, of a good listener, and delivered from his uncomfortable hostess, Lord Parham crossed his legs and began to talk at his ease.  The guests round the various tea-tables converged, some standing and some sitting, and made a circle about the great man.  About Kitty, too, who sat, equally conspicuous, dipping a biscuit in milk, and teasing her small dog with it.  Lord Parham meanwhile described to Lady Tranmore—­at wearisome length—­the demonstrations which had attended his journey south, the railway-station crowds, addresses, and so forth.  He handled the topic in a tone of jocular humility, which but slightly concealed the vast complacency beneath.  Kitty’s lip twitched; she fed Ponto hastily with all possible cakes.

“No one, of course, can keep any count of what he says on these occasions,” resumed Lord Parham, with a gracious smile.  “I hope I talked some sense—­”

“Oh, but why?” said Kitty, looking up, her large fawn’s eyes bent on the speaker.

“Why?” repeated Lord Parham, suddenly stiffening.  “I don’t follow you, Lady Kitty.”

“Anybody can talk sense!” said Kitty, throwing a big bit of muffin at Ponto’s nose.  “It’s the other thing that’s hard—­isn’t it?”

“Lady Kitty,” said the Dean, lifting a finger, “you are plagiarizing from Mr. Pitt.”

“Am I?” said Kitty.  “I didn’t know.”

“I imagine that Mr. Pitt talked sense sometimes,” said Lord Parham, shortly.

“Ah, that was when he was drunk!” said Kitty.  “Then he wasn’t responsible.”

Lord Parham and the circle laughed—­though the Premier’s laugh was a little dry and perfunctory.

“So you worship nonsense, Lady Kitty?”

Kitty nodded sweetly.

“And so does William.  Ah, here he is!”

For Ashe appeared, hurrying over the lawn, and Lord Parham rose to greet his host.

“Upon my word, Ashe, how well you look! You have had some holiday!”

“Which is more than can be said of yourself,” said Ashe, with smiling sympathy.  “Well!—­how have the speeches gone?  Is there anything left of you?  Edinburgh was magnificent!”

He wore his most radiant aspect as he sat down beside his guest; and Kitty watching him, and already conscious of a renewed and excitable dislike for her guest, thought William was overdoing it absurdly, and grew still more restive.