don't like Grandma Sophy," says the saucy Babe, sitting
cross-legged in front of him. He means the Dowager Duchess of Derry, a
very unpleasant person of strong principles, called by the profane
"Sophia, by the grace of God," because she ruled Ireland in a
viceroyalty of short duration and long-enduring mischief. She and
Brandolin do not agree, a fact which the Babe has seen and noted with
the all-seeing eyes of a petted boy who is too much in his mother's
drawing-rooms.

"I plead guilty to having offended her Grace Sophia," says Brandolin,
"but I conclude that Lady Usk's guests are not all like that most
admirable lady."

The Babe and his sisters laugh with much irreverent enjoyment; her Grace
is not more appreciated by her grandchildren than she was by Ireland.

"If I had known you were going to be so kind as to remember us, I would
have invited some of your friends," says his hostess, without coming to
the rescue of her august mother's name. "I am so sorry; but there is
nobody I think who will be very sympathetic to you. Besides, you know
them all already."

"And is that fatal to sympathy? What a cruel suggestion, dear Lady Usk!"

"Sympathy is best new, like a glove. It fits best; you don't see any
wrinkles in it for the first hour."

"What cynicism! Do you know that I am very fond of old gloves? But,
then, I never was a dandy----"

"Lord Brandolin will like Madame Sabaroff," says Dodo, a very _eveille_
young lady of thirteen.

"Fair prophetess, why? And who is Madame Sabaroff? A second O. K., a
female Stepniak?"

"What are those?" says Dodo. "She is very handsome, and a princess in
her own right."

"She gave me two Ukraine ponies and a real droschky," says the Babe.

"And Boom a Circassian mare, all white, and each of us a set of Siberian
turquoises," says Lilie.

"Her virtues must be as many as her charms," says Brandolin.

"She is a lovely creature," adds Lady Usk, "but I don't think she is
your style at all; you like fast women who make you laugh."

"My tastes are catholic where your adorable sex is in question," says
Brandolin. "I am not sure that I do like fast women; they are painful to
one's vanity; they flirt with everybody."

Lady Usk smiles. "The season before last, I recollect----"

"Dearest lady, don't revert to pre-historic times. Nothing is so
disagreeable as to think this year of what we liked last year."

"It was Lady Leamington last year!" cries the terrible Babe.

Brandolin t