ht be Dr. Shrapnel', she was candid enough to reply. 'I
could not well recognize him, not knowing him.'

'Here comes Mr. Lydiard; and let me assure you, if I may take
the liberty of introducing him, he is no true Radical. He is a
philosopher--one of the flirts, the butterflies of politics, as Dr.
Shrapnel calls them.'

Beauchamp hummed over some improvized trifles to Lydiard, then
introduced him cursorily, and all walked in the direction of Itchincope.
It was really the Mr. Lydiard Mrs. Devereux had met in Spain, so they
were left in the rear to discuss their travels. Much conversation did
not go on in front. Cecilia was very reserved. By-and-by she said, 'I am
glad you have come into the country early to-day.'

He spoke rapturously of the fresh air, and not too mildly of his
pleasure in meeting her. Quite off her guard, she began to hope he was
getting to be one of them again, until she heard him tell Lord Palmet
that he had come early out of Bevisham for the walk with Dr. Shrapnel,
and to call on certain rich tradesmen living near Itchincope. He
mentioned the name of Dollikins.

'Dollikins?' Palmet consulted a perturbed recollection. Among the
entangled list of new names he had gathered recently from the study of
politics, Dollikins rang in his head. He shouted, 'Yes, Dollikins! to be
sure. Lespel has him to lunch to-day;--calls him a gentleman-tradesman;
odd fish! and told a fellow called--where is it now?--a name like brass
or copper... Copperstone? Brasspot?... told him he'd do well to keep his
Tory cheek out of sight. It 's the names of those fellows bother one so!
All the rest's easy.'

'You are evidently in a state of confusion, Lord Palmet,' said Cecilia.

The tone of rebuke and admonishment was unperceived. 'Not about the
facts,' he rejoined. 'I 'm for fair play all round; no trickery. I tell
Beauchamp all I know, just as I told you this morning, Miss Halkett.
What I don't like is Lespel turning Tory.'

Cecilia put a stop to his indiscretions by halting for Mrs. Devereux,
and saying to Beauchamp, 'If your friend would return to Bevisham by
rail, this is the nearest point to the station.'

Palmet, best-natured of men, though generally prompted by some of his
peculiar motives, dismounted from his horse, leaving him to Beauchamp,
that he might conduct Mr. Lydiard to the station, and perhaps hear
a word of Miss Denham: at any rate be able to form a guess as to the
secret of that art of his, which had in t