e said gently,--

"Her name."

Wogan told her it, and she said no more; but it was plain that she would
never forget it, that she had written it upon her heart.

Wogan waited, looking to the Princess, who drying her tears rose from
her chair and said with great and unexpected dignity,--

"How comes it, sir, that with such servants your King still does not sit
upon his throne? My daughter shall not fall below the great example set
to her. My fears are shamed by it. My daughter goes with you to-night."

It was time that she consented, for even as Wogan flung himself upon his
knee and raised her hand, M. Chateaudoux appeared at the door with a
finger on his lips, and behind him one could hear a voice grumbling and
cursing on the stairs.

"Jenny," said Wogan, and Jenny stumbled into the room. "Quiet," said he;
"you will wake the house."

"Well, if you had to walk upstairs in the dark in these horrible
shoes--"

"Oh, Jenny, your cloak, quick!"

"Take the thing! A good riddance to it; it's dripping wet, and weighs a
ton."

"Dripping wet!" moaned the mother.

"I shall not wear it long," said Clementina, advancing from the
embrasure of the window. Jenny turned and looked her over critically
from head to foot. Then she turned away without a word and let the cloak
fall to the ground. It fell about her feet; she kicked it viciously
away, and at the same time she kicked off one of those shoes of which
she so much complained. Jenny was never the woman to mince her language,
and to-night she was in her surliest mood. So she swore simply and
heartily, to the mother's utter astonishment and indignation.

"Damn!" she said, hobbling across the room to the corner, whither her
shoe had fallen. "There, there, old lady; don't hold your hands to your
ears as though a clean oath would poison them!"

The Princess-mother fell back in her chair.

"Does she speak to me?" she asked helplessly.

"Yes," said Wogan; and turning to Jenny, "This is the kind-hearted
aunt."

Jenny turned to Clementina, who was picking the cloak from the floor.

"And you are the beautiful heiress," she said sourly. "Well, if you are
going to put that wet cloak on your shoulders, I wish you joy of the
first kiss O'Toole gives you when you jump into his arms."

The Princess-mother screamed; Wogan hastened to interfere.

"Jenny, there's the bedroom; to bed with you!" and he took out his
watch. At once he uttered an exclamation of affright. Wogan had
m