“The mail is in,” he then observed, in his usual lugubrious tone, as if the post had brought him his death-warrant.

“Ah!” answered Netty, glancing up at him.  She was sure that something had happened.  “Have you had important news?”

“Had nothing by the mail,” he answered, looking straight in front of him.  And Netty asked no more questions.

“Your aunt Jooly,” he said, after a pause, “has had an interesting mail.  She has been offered the presidency—­”

“Of the United States?” asked Netty, with a little laugh, seeing that Joseph paused.

“Not yet,” he answered, with deep gravity.  “Of the Massachusetts Women Bachelors’ Federation.”

“Oh!”

“She’ll accept,” opined Joseph P. Mangles, lugubriously.

“Is it a great honor?”

“There are different sorts of greatness,” Joseph replied.

“What is the Massachusetts Women Bachelors’ Federation?”

Joseph Mangles did not reply immediately.  He stepped out into the road to allow a lady to pass.  He was an American gentleman of the old school, and still offered to the stronger sex that which they intend to take for themselves in the future.

“Think it is like the blue-ribbon army,” he said, when he returned to Netty’s side.  “The sight of the ribbon induces the curious to offer the abstainer drink.  The Massachusetts Bachelor Women advertise their membership of the Federation, just to see if there is any man around who will induce ’em to resign.”

“Is Aunt Julie pleased?” asked Netty.

“Almighty,” was the brief reply.  “And she will accept it.  She will marry the paid secretary.  They have a paid secretary.  President usually marries him.  He is not a bachelor-woman.  They’re mostly worms—­the men that help women to make fools of themselves.”

This was very strong language for Uncle Joseph, who usually seemed to have a latent admiration for his gifted sister’s greatness.  Netty suspected that he was angry, or put out by something else, and made the Massachusetts Women Bachelors bear the brunt of his displeasure.

“She is a masterful woman is Aunt Jooly,” he said; “she’ll give him his choice between dismissal and—­and earthly paradise.”

Netty laughed soothingly, and glanced up at him again.  He was walking along with huge, lanky strides, much more hurriedly than he was aware of.  His head was thrust forward, and his chin went first as if to push a way through a crowded world.

And it was borne in upon Netty that Uncle Joseph had received some order; that he was pluming his ragged old wings for flight.

XXXIII

THIN ICE

It was not yet mid-day when Paul Deulin called at the Bukaty Palace.

“Is the prince in?” he asked.  “Is he busy?” he added, when the servant had stood back with a gesture inviting him to enter.  But the man only shrugged his shoulders with a smile.  The prince, it appeared, was never busy.  Deulin found him, in fact, in an arm-chair in his study, reading a German newspaper.