can't get something done; I
won't allow two dear friends of mine to do anything so stupid if I can
help it. Why, the idea!--getting into a quarrel with a harmless young
fellow like that! You ought to have been kind to him for my sake--for he
really is such a dear boy--so simple and good-natured--"

"_But where is Grace?_" said a voice out there in the wide ball-room;
and as this was Miss Burgoyne's cue, she tripped lightly on to the stage
with her smiling answer: "_One kiss, papa, before the guests arrive._"
And, as it turned out, there was no further opportunity of talk that
night between Miss Burgoyne and Mr. Lionel Moore.

But two days thereafter, and just as Lionel was about to go out for his
morning ride, the house-porter brought him a card. It was Mr. Percival
Miles who was below.

"Ask the gentleman to come up."

Here were the preliminaries of battle, then. Lionel had a vague kind of
notion that the fire-eating youth ought not to have appeared in
person--that he ought to have been represented by a friend; however, it
was not of much consequence. He only hoped that there would be no
further altercation or throwing of ink-bottles; otherwise he considered
it probable that this interview would terminate in a more English manner
than the last.

The young gentleman came in, hat in hand. He was apparently very calm
and dignified.

"Mr. Moore," said he, slowly, as if he were repeating words already
carefully chosen, "I am about to take an unusual course. I have been
asked to do so--I have been constrained to do so--by the one person
whose wish in such a matter must be respected. I have come to apologize
to you for my conduct of the other day."

"Oh, very well," said Lionel, but somewhat coldly; he did not seem well
satisfied that this young man should get off so easily, after his
unheard-of insolence. Indeed, Lionel was very much in the position of
the irate old Scotchwoman whose toes were trodden upon by a man in a
crowd. "I beg your pardon," said the culprit. "Begging my paurdon 'll no
dae," was the retort, "I'm gaun to gie ye a skelp o' the lug!"

"I hope you will accept my apology," the pale-faced young gentleman
continued in the same stiff and embarrassed manner. "I don't know
whether it is worth while my offering any excuse for what I did--except
that it was done under a misapprehension. The--the lady in question
seemed annoyed--perhaps I mistook the meaning of certain phrases she
used--and certainly I m