the sea? Nothing is the matter, of course! Hasn't your old father
been away from you two whole months? And weren't those pretty dresses
he has carried back with him for his little girl? And isn't the
wine--Zounds, no, the wine isn't--at least, certainly it is--to be
sure it's what it ought to be--_what_ it ought to be? Yes! But, Mort
d'aieul! not _where_ it ought to be! Hum! hum! I think I am going
mad!" And Sir Godfrey, forgetting he held the helmet all this while,
dashed his hands to his head with such violence that the steel edge
struck hard above the ear, and in one minute had raised a lump there
as large as the egg of a fowl.

"Poor, poor papa," said Miss Elaine. And she ran and fetched some cold
water, and, dipping her dainty lace handkerchief into it, she bathed
the Baron's head.

"Thank you, my child," he murmured, presently. "Of course, nothing is
the matter. They were very slow in putting the new" (here he gave a
gulp) "casks of wine into the cellar; that's all. 'Twill soon be
dinner-time. I must make me ready."

And so saying, the Baron kissed his daughter and strode away towards
his dressing-room. But she heard him shout "Mort d'aieul!" more than
once before he was out of hearing. Then his dressing-room door shut
with a bang, and sent echoes all along the entries above and below.

[Illustration: Sir Godfrey maketh him ready for the Bath]

The December night was coming down, and a little twinkling lamp hung
at the end of the passage. Towards this Miss Elaine musingly turned
her steps, still squeezing her now nearly dry handkerchief.

"What did he mean?" she said to herself.

"Elaine!" shouted Sir Godfrey, away off round a corner.

"Yes, papa, I'm coming."

"Don't come. I'm going to the bath. A--did you hear me say anything
particular?"

"Do you mean when I met you?" answered Elaine. "Yes--no--that is,--not
exactly, papa."

"Then don't dare to ask me any questions, for I won't have it." And
another door slammed.

"What did papa mean?" said Miss Elaine, once more.

Her bright brown eyes were looking at the floor as she walked slowly
on towards the light, and her lips, which had been a little open so
that you could have seen what dainty teeth she had, shut quite close.
In fact, she was thinking, which was something you could seldom accuse
her of. I do not know exactly what her thoughts were, except that the
words "dragon" and "sacrifice" kept bumping against each other in
them continually; and