g so to speak,
don't make a murderer a better man if he goes on murdering," she added
with undisputable if ungrammatical logic. "Come, let's look at something
more cheerful now."

And without waiting for anyone else's assent, she turned towards the
more lively portion of the grounds, closely followed by a ruddy-faced,
somewhat sheepish-looking youth, who very obviously was her attendant
swain.

It was getting on for three o-clock now, and the quality were beginning
to arrive. Lord Anthony Dewhurst was already there, chucking every
pretty girl under the chin, to the annoyance of her beau. Ladies were
arriving all the time, and the humbler feminine hearts were constantly
set a-flutter at sight of rich brocaded gowns, and the new Charlottes,
all crinkled velvet and soft marabout, which were so becoming to the
pretty faces beneath.

There was incessant and loud talking and chattering, with here and there
the shriller tones of a French voice being distinctly noticeable in the
din. There were a good many French ladies and gentlemen present, easily
recognisable, even in the distance, for their clothes were of more sober
hue and of lesser richness than those of their English compeers.

But they were great lords and ladies, nevertheless, Dukes and Duchesses
and Countesses, come to England for fear of being murdered by those
devils in their own country. Richmond was full of them just now, as they
were made right welcome both at the Palace and at the magnificent home
of Sir Percy and Lady Blakeney.

Ah! here comes Sir Andrew Ffoulkes with his lady! so pretty and
dainty does she look, like a little china doll, in her new-fashioned
short-waisted gown: her brown hair in soft waves above her smooth
forehead, her great, hazel eyes fixed in unaffected admiration on the
gallant husband by her side.

"No wonder she dotes on him!" signed pretty Mistress Polly after she had
bobbed her curtsy to my lady. "The brave deeds he did for love of her!
Rescued her from those murderers over in France and brought her to
England safe and sound, having fought no end of them single-handed, so
I've beard it said. Have you not, Master Thomas Jezzard?"

And she looked defiantly at her meek-looking cavalier.

"Bah!" replied Master Thomas with quite unusual vehemence in response to
the disparaging look in her brown eyes, "'Tis not he who did it all,
as you well know, Mistress Polly. Sir Andrew Ffoulkes is a gallant
gentleman, you may take your Bible