“A thousand pardons!” he murmured, righting himself with an effort—­ “So clumsy of me!”

“Don’t mention it!” said Maryllia, placidly—­“Will you hand bread-and-butter to Miss Pippitt, Do you take hot cake, Sir Morton?”

Sir Morton’s face had become considerably redder during this interval, and, as he spread his handkerchief out on one knee to receive the possible dribblings of tea from the cup he had begun to sip at somewhat noisily, he looked as he certainly felt, rather at a loss what next to say.  He was not long in this state of indecision, however, for a bright idea occurred to him, causing a smile to spread among his loose cheek-wrinkles.

“I’m sorry my friend the Duke of Lumpton has left me,” he said with unctuous pomp.  “He would have been delighted—­er—­delighted to call with me to-day—­”

“Who is he?” enquired Maryllia, languidly.

Again Sir Morton reddened, but managed to conceal his discomfiture in a fat laugh.

“Well, my dear lady, he is Lumpton!—­that is enough for him, and for most people—­”

“Really?—­Oh—­well—­of course!—­I suppose so!” interrupted Maryllia, with an expressive smile, which caused Miss Tabitha’s angular form, perched as it was on the high music-stool, to quiver with spite, and moved Miss Tabitha’s neatly gloved fingers to clench like a cat’s claws in their kid sheaths with an insane desire to scratch the fair face on which that smile was reflected.

“He is a charming fellow, the Duke-charming-charming!” went on Sir Morton, unconscious of the complex workings of thought in his elderly daughter’s acidulated brain!  “And his great ‘chum,’ Lord Mawdenham, has also been staying with us—­but they left Badsworth yesterday, I’m sorry to say.  They travelled up to London with Lady Elizabeth Messing, who paid us a visit of two or three days—­”

“Lady Elizabeth Messing!” echoed Maryllia, with a sudden ripple of laughter—­“Dear me!  Did you have her staying with you?  How very nice of you!  She is such a terror!”

Mr. Marius Longford stroked one of his pussy-cat whiskers thoughtfully, and put in his word.

“Lady Elizabeth spoke of you, Miss Vancourt, several times,” he said.  “In fact”—­and he smiled—­“she had a good deal to say!  She remembers meeting you in Paris, and—­if I mistake not—­also at Homburg on one occasion.  She was surprised to hear you were coming to live in this dull country place—­she said it would never suit you at all—­you were altogether too brilliant—­er—­” he bowed—­” and er--charming!” This complimentary phrase was spoken with the air of a beneficent paterfamilias giving a child a bon-bon.

Maryllia’s glance swept over him carelessly.

“Much obliged to her, I’m sure!” she said—­“I can quite imagine the anxiety she felt concerning me!  So good of her!  Is she a great friend of yours?”

Mr. Longford looked slightly disconcerted.

“Well, no,” he replied—­“I have only during these last few days—­ through Sir Morton—­had the pleasure of her acquaintance—­”