der, and then,
taking his arm, goes with him across the lawn to where Georgie is
standing talking gayly to Lord Alfred.

The introduction is gone through, and Georgie makes her very best bow,
and blushes her very choicest blush; but the duke will insist upon
shaking hands with her, whereupon, being pleased, she smiles her most
enchanting smile.

"So glad to make your acquaintance. Missed you on your arrival," says
the duke, genially. "Was toiling through the conservatories, I think,
with Lady Loftus. Know her? Stout old lady, with feathers over her
nose. She always will go to hot places on hot days."

"I wish she would go to a final hot place, as she affects them so
much," says Lord Alfred, gloomily. "I can't bear her; she is always
coming here bothering me about that abominable boy of hers in the
Guards, and I never know what to say to her."

"Why don't you learn it up at night and say it to her in the morning?"
says Mrs. Branscombe, brightly. "_I_ should know what to say to her at
once."

"Oh! I dare say," says Lord Alfred. "Only that doesn't help me, you
know, because _I_ don't."

"Didn't know who you were, at first, Mrs. Branscombe," breaks in the
duke. "Thought you were a little girl--eh?--eh?"--chuckling again.
"Asked your husband who you were, and so on. I hope you are enjoying
yourself. Seen everything, eh? The houses are pretty good this year."

"Lord Alfred has just shown them to me. They are quite too exquisite,"
says Georgie.

"And the lake, and my new swans?"

"No; not the swans."

"Dear me! why didn't he show you those? Finest birds I ever saw. My
dear Mrs. Branscombe, you really must see them, you know."

"I should like to, if you will show them to me," says the little
hypocrite, with the very faintest, but the most successful, emphasis
on the pronoun, which is wine to the heart of the old beau; and,
offering her his arm, he takes her across the lawn and through the
shrubberies to the sheet of water beyond, that gleams sweet and cool
through the foliage. As they go, the county turns to regard them; and
men wonder who the pretty woman is the old fellow has picked up; and
women wonder what on earth the duke can see in that silly little Mrs.
Branscombe.

Sir James, who has been watching the duke's evident admiration for his
pretty guest, is openly amused.

"Your training!" he says to Clarissa, over whose chair he is leaning.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself and your pupil. Such a
disgr