the eyes of the elder, which, during a moment's silence, moved from
the retreating visitor, now formally taken over at the door by Edward
Brookenham, to Lady Fanny and her hostess, who, in spite of the embraces
just performed, had again subsided together while Mrs. Brook gazed up
in exalted intelligence. "It's a funny house," said the Duchess at last.
"She makes me such a scene over my not bringing Aggie, and still
more over my very faint hint of my reasons for it, that I fly off,
in compunction, to do what I can, on the spot, to repair my excess of
prudence. I reappear, panting, with my niece--and it's to THIS company I
introduce her!"

Her companion looked at the charming child, to whom Lord Petherton was
talking with evident kindness and gaiety--a conjunction that evidently
excited Mitchy's interest. "May WE then know her?" he asked with an
effect of drollery. "May I--if HE may?"

The Duchess's eyes, turned to him, had taken another light. He even
gaped a little at their expression, which was in a manner carried out by
her tone. "Go and talk to her, you perverse creature, and send him over
to me." Lord Petherton, a minute later, had joined her; old Edward had
left the room with Mrs. Donner; his wife and Lady Fanny were still more
closely engaged; and the young Agnesina, though visibly a little scared
at Mitchy's queer countenance, had begun, after the fashion he had
touched on to Mrs. Brook, politely to invoke the aid of the idea of
habit. "Look here--you must help me," the Duchess said to Petherton.
"You can, perfectly--and it's the first thing I've yet asked of you."

"Oh, oh, oh!" her interlocutor laughed.

"I must have Mitchy," she went on without noticing his particular shade
of humour.

"Mitchy too?"--he appeared to wish to leave her in no doubt of it.

"How low you are!" she simply said. "There are times when I despair of
you. He's in every way your superior, and I like him so that--well, he
must like HER. Make him feel that he does."

Lord Petherton turned it over as something put to him practically. "I
could wish for him that he would. I see in her possibilities--!" he
continued to laugh.

"I dare say you do. I see them in Mitchett, and I trust you'll
understand me when I say I appeal to you."

"Appeal to HIM straight. That's much better," Petherton lucidly
observed.

The Duchess wore for a moment her proudest air, which made her, in the
connexion, exceptionally gentle. "He doesn't like me."