We found the Tracys when we arrived at home.  Dermot was not equal to standing about at the pottery, but Lady Diana had promised to come and help me entertain the party, and very kindly she did so during the very trying hungry hour to which we had to submit, inasmuch as, when Sir James at last appeared, it turned out that he never ate luncheon, and was in perfect ignorance that we were waiting for him.

He offered me his arm and we went to the long-deferred luncheon.  I listened to his great satisfaction with what he had seen, and the marvel he thought it; and meanwhile I looked for Harold, and saw him presently come in, in exactly that condition of dress, as he considered due to me, and with the long blue envelope I knew full well in one hand, in the other the little figure of the Hope of Poland which Miss Woolmer had given him; and oh! what a gladness there was in his eyes.  He put them both down beside Sir James, and then retreated to a side table, where Dora had been set to entertain a stray school-boy or two.

I longed to hear Sir James’s observations, but his provoking opposite neighbour began to talk, and I got nothing more to myself, and I had to spend the next half-hour in showing our grounds to Mrs. Vernon, who admired as if she were electioneering, and hindered me from knowing what anybody was about, till the people had had their cups of coffee and their carriages had come.

We three found ourselves in the porch together when Eustace had handed in Mrs. Vernon, and Sir James, turning for a last shake of Harold’s hand, said, “I shall expect you this day week.”  Then, with most polite thanks to the master of the house, he was driven off, while Harold, beaming down on us, exclaimed, “It is as good as done.  I am to go up and see the Secretary of State about it next week.”

I had no doubt what it was, and cried out joyfully to ask how he had done it.  “I told him who first discovered the capabilities of the clay, and laid the state of the case before him.  He was very much touched, said it was just such a matter as needed severity at the time, but was sure to be pardoned now.”

“Pardoned!  What do you mean?” exclaimed Eustace.  “You don’t mean that you have not done with that wretched old Prometesky yet?  I thought at least, when you took up Sir James all to yourself, spoiling the luncheon and keeping everyone waiting, you were doing something for the benefit of the family.”

As Harold seemed dumb with amazement, I asked what he could possibly have been expected to do for the good of the family, and Eustace mumbled out something about that supposed Calldron barony, which seemed to have turned his head, and I answered sharply that Sir James had nothing at all to do with reviving peerages; besides, if this one had ever existed, it would have been Harold’s.  I had much better have held my tongue.  Eustace never recovered that allegation.  That day, too, was the very