me if I speak in confidence to you. Here's how it all has happened.
The swells all refused: they agreed together that they 'd not come to
dinner, nor come in the evening. Mr. Cleremont knows why; but it ain't
for me to say it."

"But _I_ don't know, and I desire to know!" cried I, haughtily.

"Well, indeed, sir, it's more than I can tell you. There 'a people here
not a bit correcter than herself that won't meet her."

"Meet whom?"

"Madame, sir,--Madame Cleremont."

"Don't dare to say another word," cried I, passionately. "If you utter a
syllable of disrespect to that name, I 'll fling you out of the window."

"Don't be afraid, Master Digby, I know my station, and I never forget
it, sir. I was only telling you what you asked me, not a word more.
The swells sent back your father's cards, and there's more than three
hundred of them returned."

"And where's papa now?'*

"In bed, sir. He told his valet he was n't to be disturbed, except the
house took fire."

"Is Madame Cleremont below?"

"No, sir; she's very ill. The doctor has been with her, and he's coming
again to-night."

"And are these people--this rabble that you talk of--received as my
papa's guests?"

"Only in a sort of a way, sir," said he, smiling. "You see that when
Mr. Cleremont perceived that there was nothing but excuses and apologies
pouring in, he told me to close the house, and that we 'd let all the
bourgeois people into the grounds, and give them a jolly supper and
plenty of champagne; and he sent word to a many of the young officers
to come up and have a lark; and certainly, as the supper was there, they
might as well eat it. The only puzzle is now, won't there be too many,
for he sent round to all Sir Roger's tradespeople,--all at least
that has good-looking daughters,--and they're pourin' in by tens and
fifteens, and right well dressed and well got up too."

"And what will papa say to all this to-morrow?"

"Don't you know, sir, that Sir Roger seldom looks back," said he, with
a cunning look; "he'll not be disturbed to-night, for the house is shut
up, and the bands are playing, one at the lake, the other at the end of
the long walk, and the suppers will be served here and there, where they
can cheer and drink toasts without annoying any one."

"It's a downright infamy!" cried I.

"It ain't the correct thing, sure enough, sir, there's none of us could
say that, but it will be rare fun; and, as Captain Hotham said, 'the
women are a p