Institute is just round the top
here."

"You don't mean to say you're going to let that mule beat you?"
exclaimed the Countess.

"I was only thinking of your being late."

"Oh, bother!" said she. "Your mule may be ruined." The horse-trainer in
her was aroused.

"And then my arm?" said Denry.

"Shall I drive back?" the Countess suggested.

"Oh, do," said Denry. "Keep on up the street, and then to the left."

They changed places, and two minutes later she brought the mule to an
obedient rest in front of the Police Institute, which was all newly red
with terra-cotta. The main body of policemen had passed into the
building, but two remained at the door, and the mule haughtily tolerated
them. The Countess despatched one to Longshaw Road to settle with the
old woman whose vegetables they had brought away with them. The other
policeman, who, owing to the Countess's philanthropic energy, had
received a course of instruction in first aid, arranged a sling for
Denry's arm. And then the Countess said that Denry ought certainly to go
with her to the inauguration ceremony. The policeman whistled a boy to
hold the mule. Denry picked a carrot out of the complex folds of the
Countess's rich costume. And the Countess and her saviour entered the
portico and were therein met by an imposing group of important male
personages, several of whom wore mayoral chains. Strange tales of what
had happened to the Countess had already flown up to the Institute, and
the chief expression on the faces of the group seemed to be one of
astonishment that she still lived.

IV

Denry observed that the Countess was now a different woman. She had
suddenly put on a manner to match her costume, which in certain parts
was stiff with embroidery. From the informal companion and the tamer of
mules she had miraculously developed into the public celebrity, the
peeress of the realm, and the inaugurator-general of philanthropic
schemes and buildings. Not one of the important male personages but
would have looked down on Denry!

And yet, while treating Denry as a jolly equal, the Countess with all
her embroidered and stiff politeness somehow looked down on the
important male personages--and they knew it. And the most curious thing
was that they seemed rather to enjoy it. The one who seemed to enjoy it
the least was Sir Jehoshophat Dain, a white-bearded pillar of terrific
imposingness.

Sir Jee--as he was then beginning to be called--had recently been
kn