Mr. Barker, who seemed to have the faculty of carrying on one conversation and listening to another at the same time, struck in when Claudius paused.

“The Professor, Countess,” he began, “is one of those rare individuals who indulge in the most unbounded enthusiasm.  At the present time I think, with all deference to his superior erudition, that he is running into a dead wall.  We have seen something of the ‘woman’s rights’ question in America.  Let us take him over there and show him what it all means.”

“My friend,” answered Claudius, “you are one of those hardened sceptics for whom nothing can be hoped save a deathbed repentance.  When you are mortally hit and have the alternative of marriage or death set before you in an adequately lively manner, you will, of course, elect to marry.  Then your wife, if you get your deserts, will rule you with a rod of iron, and you will find, to your cost, that the woman who has got you has rights, whether you like it or not, and that she can use them.”

“Dollars and cents,” said Barker grimly, “that is all.”

“No, it is not all,” retorted Claudius.  “A wise Providence has provided women in the world who can make it very uncomfortable for sinners like you, and if you do not reform and begin a regular course of worship, I hope that one of them will get you.”

“Thanks.  And if I repent and make a pilgrimage on my knees to every woman I know, what fate do you predict? what countless blessings are in store for me?”

The Countess was amused at the little skirmish, though she knew that Claudius was right.  Barker, with all his extreme politeness and his pleasant speeches, had none of the knightly element in his character.

“You never can appreciate the ‘countless blessings’ until you are converted to woman-worship, my friend,” said Claudius, evading the question.  “But,” he added, “perhaps the Countess might describe them to you.”

But Margaret meant to do nothing of the kind.  She did not want to continue the general conversation on the topic which seemed especially Claudius’s own, particularly as Mr. Barker seemed inclined to laugh at the Doctor’s enthusiasm.  So she changed the subject, and began asking the American questions about the races on the previous day.

“Of course,” she said, “I do not go anywhere now.”

The dinner passed off very pleasantly.  Miss Skeat was instructed in the Knickerbocker and Boston peerage, so to speak, by the intelligent Mr. Barker, who did not fail, however, to hint at the superiority of Debrett, who does not hesitate to tell, and boldly to print in black and white, those distinctions of rank which he considers necessary to the salvation of society; whereas the enterprising compilers of the “Boston Blue Book” and the “New York List” only divide society up into streets, mapping it out into so many square feet and so much frontage of dukes, marquesses, generals, and “people we don’t