“Then the duke went to York,” I continued hurriedly; and when he came back we met him at the Star and Garter.  He insisted that the match should come off in Hyde Park.  I should have preferred the open roads north of Bedford House.”

“Where there is no Serpentine,” she interrupted, with the faintest suspicion of a twinkle about her eyes.  “On, sir, on!  You are as reluctant as our pump at Wilmot House in the dry season.  I see you were not killed, as you richly deserved.  Let us have the rest of your tale.”

“There is very little more to it, save that I contrived to master the beast, and his Grace—­”

“—­Was disgraced.  A vastly fine achievement, surely.  But where are you to stop?  You will be shaming the King next by outwalking him.  Pray, how did the duke appear as he was going into the Serpentine?”

“You have heard?” I exclaimed, the trick she had played me dawning upon me.

“Upon my word, Richard, you are more of a simpleton than I thought you.  Have you not seen your newspaper this morning?”

I explained how it was that I had not.  She took up the Chronicle.

“’This Mr. Carvel has made no inconsiderable noise since his arrival in town, and yesterday crowned his performances by defeating publicly a noble duke at a riding match in Hyde Park, before half the quality of the kingdom.  His Lordship of March and Ruglen acted as umpire.’  There, sir, was I not right to beg Sir John Fielding to put you in safe keeping until your grandfather can send for you?”

I made to seize the paper, but she held it from me.

“’If Mr. Carvel remains long enough in England, he bids fair to share the talk of Mayfair with a certain honourable young gentleman of Brooks’s and the Admiralty, whose debts and doings now furnish most of the gossip for the clubs and the card tables.  Their names are both connected with this contest.  ’Tis whispered that the wager upon which the match was ridden arose—­’” here Dolly stopped shortly, her colour mounting, and cried out with a stamp of her foot.  “You are not content to bring publicity upon yourself, who deserve it, but must needs drag innocent names into the newspapers.”

“What have they said?” I demanded, ready to roll every printer in London in the kennel.

“Nay, you may read for yourself,” said she.  And, flinging the paper in my lap, left the room.

They had not said much more, Heaven be praised.  But I was angry and mortified as I had never been before, realizing for the first time what a botch I had made of my stay in London.  In great dejection, I was picking up my hat to leave the house, when Mrs. Manners came in upon me, and insisted that I should stay for dinner.  She was very white, and seemed troubled and preoccupied, and said that Mr. Manners had come back from York with a cold on his chest, but would insist upon joining the party to Vauxhall on Monday.  I asked her when she was going to the baths, and suggested that the change would do her good.  Indeed, she looked badly.