me exactly--only
sweetly quaint. Besides--there's positively _no_ shortening it. Tilio is
_too_ silly, and one _couldn't_ call a _man_ 'Tilly' ... an Italian of
all things. Now _could_ one?"

Sophy laughed and laughed, and Olive, after pouting for a second, joined
in.

* * * * *

As Sophy thought, Chesney was much pleased with the idea of this dinner
at the House of Commons.

"It will be mostly made up of the Conservative gang, I suppose," he
commented. "All the more fun baiting them. I know a thing or two that
will wring the withers of the Hon. John--stodgy duffer! Thank God, his
career will end in the _cul-de-sac_ of the House of Lords!"

He began walking up and down the room, grinning over the "thing or two"
with which he would "wring the withers" of his host. Sophy felt suddenly
anxious. Suppose he had one of his outbursts of rage at that dinner? She
had forgotten his violent antipathy to the Powers that Were, when she
accepted the invitation.

"I suppose there'll be Liberals, too, at the dinner," she ventured
rather timidly.

"There'll be _one_ Liberal there, by Jove!" said Chesney, and he added a
few chuckles to his grin.

As the evening of the dinner drew near, Sophy grew more and more
apprehensive. Chesney was no longer in the amiably apathetic mood that
had followed the first days of his recovery from his last attack. His
face had taken on again that waxen pallor, and his pupils seemed to her
unnaturally dilated.

At tea-time an unfortunate incident occurred. Chesney sometimes had tea
with Sophy. He would wait until the tea was frightfully strong, then
drink two or three cups of it, without milk or sugar. This afternoon
they were sitting together while he drank what she called his "tea
stew," when William brought in a parcel.

"Fallals for to-night?" asked Chesney.

"No. I haven't bought anything. I can't think what it is," said Sophy,
puzzled. She fetched the little scissors from her writing-table and cut
the cord on the parcel. It contained an odd little boat, like the
fishermen's boats on Lago Maggiore. When it was wound up the little men
in it worked their oars. Amaldi's card lay on top. He had written on it:

"For my friend Bobby, from his 'man.'"

Chesney put down his cup, and came over.

"What the devil is that?" he said, scowling at the toy. Then he picked
up Amaldi's card. The blood rushed to his face. "I call that a
confounded liberty!"

Sophy paled.