t a gray hair on his
head--and look at mine! What dye do you use, Moody? If he had my open
disposition he would tell. As it is, he looks unutterable things, and
holds his tongue. Ah! if I could only have held _my_ tongue--when I
was in the diplomatic service, you know--what a position I might have
occupied by this time! Don't let me interrupt you, Moody, if you have
anything to say to Lady Lydiard."

Having acknowledged Mr. Sweetsir's lively greeting by a formal bow,
and a grave look of wonder which respectfully repelled that vivacious
gentleman's flow of humor, Moody turned towards his mistress.

"Have you got the bank-note?" asked her Ladyship.

Moody laid the bank-note on the table.

"Am I in the way?" inquired Felix.

"No," said his aunt. "I have a letter to write; it won't occupy me
for more than a few minutes. You can stay here, or go and look at the
Hobbema, which you please."

Felix made a second sauntering attempt to reach the picture-gallery.
Arrived within a few steps of the entrance, he stopped again, attracted
by an open cabinet of Italian workmanship, filled with rare old china.
Being nothing if not a cultivated amateur, Mr. Sweetsir paused to pay
his passing tribute of admiration before the contents of the cabinet.
"Charming! charming!" he said to himself, with his head twisted
appreciatively a little on one side. Lady Lydiard and Moody left him in
undisturbed enjoyment of the china, and went on with the business of the
bank-note.

"Ought we to take the number of the note, in case of accident?" asked
her Ladyship.

Moody produced a slip of paper from his waistcoat pocket. "I took the
number, my Lady, at the bank."

"Very well. You keep it. While I am writing my letter, suppose you
direct the envelope. What is the clergyman's name?"

Moody mentioned the name and directed the envelope. Felix, happening to
look round at Lady Lydiard and the steward while they were both engaged
in writing, returned suddenly to the table as if he had been struck by a
new idea.

"Is there a third pen?" he asked. "Why shouldn't I write a line at once
to Hardyman, aunt? The sooner you have his opinion about Tommie the
better--don't you think so?"

Lady Lydiard pointed to the pen tray, with a smile. To show
consideration for her dog was to seize irresistibly on the high-road
to her favor. Felix set to work on his letter, in a large scrambling
handwriting, with plenty of ink and a noisy pen. "I declare we are like