retorted the irresistible
spinster, spreading her skirts the wider, both arms akimbo--her thin
fingers acting as clothespins, "that Sue is to take her dancing lesson
next door, and as I can't fly in the second-story window, having mislaid
my wings, I must use my feet and disturb everybody. No, gentlemen--don't
move--I can pass."

The captain made so profound a salaam in reply that his hat grazed the
bricks of the sidewalk.

"Let me hunt for them, Miss Lavinia. I know where they are!" he
exclaimed, with his hand on his heart.

"Where?" she asked roguishly, twisting her head on one side with the
movement of a listening bird.

"In heaven, my lady, where they are waiting your arrival," he answered,
with another profound sweep of his hand and dip of his back, his bald
head glistening in the sunlight as he stooped before her.

"Then you will never get near them," she returned with an equally low
curtsy and a laugh that nearly shook her side curls loose.

St. George was about to step the closer to take a hand in the
badinage--he and the little old maid were forever crossing swords--when
her eyes fell upon him. Instantly her expression changed. She was one of
the women who had blamed him for not stopping the duel, and had been on
the lookout for him for days to air her views in person.

"So you are still in town, are you?" she remarked frigidly in lowered
tones. "I thought you had taken that young firebrand down to the Eastern
Shore to cool off."

St. George frowned meaningly in the effort to apprise her ladyship that
Harry was within hearing distance, but Miss Lavinia either did not, or
would not, understand.

"Two young boobies, that's what they are, breaking their hearts over
each other," she rattled on, gathering the ends of her cape the closer.
"Both of them ought to be spanked and put to bed. Get them into each
other's arms just as quick as you can. As for Talbot Rutter, he's the
biggest fool of the three, or was until Annie Rutter got hold of him.
Now I hear he is willing to let Harry come back, as if that would do any
good. It's Kate who must be looked after; that Scotch blood in her
veins makes her as pig-headed as her father. No--I don't want your arm,
sir--get out of my way."

If the courtiers heard--and half of them did--they neither by word
or expression conveyed that fact to Harry or St. George. It was not
intended for their ears, and, therefore, was not their property. With
still more profound saluta