impersonations. Oh, Dal! Do you remember when she tucked a sheet of
white writing-paper into her tea-gown for a dog collar, and took off
the high-church curate nervously singing a comic song? Then at the very
end, you see--and really some of it is quite good for amateurs--she
trots out Velma, or some equally perfect artiste, to show them how it
really can be done; and suddenly the place is full of music, and a
great hush falls on the audience, and the poor complacent amateurs
realise that the noise they have been making was, after all, not music;
and they go dumbly home. But they have forgotten all about it by the
following year; or a fresh contingent of willing performers steps into
the breach. The duchess's little joke always comes off."

"The Honourable Jane does not approve of it," said young Ronald Ingram;
"therefore she is generally given marching orders and departs to her
next visit before the event. But no one can accompany Madame Velma so
perfectly, so this time she is commanded to stay. But I doubt if the
'surprise packet' will come off with quite such a shock as usual, and I
am certain the fun won't be so good afterwards. The Honourable Jane has
been known to jump on the duchess for that sort of thing. She is safe
to get the worst of it at the time, but it has a restraining effect
afterwards."

"I think Miss Champion is quite right," said a bright-faced American
girl, bravely, holding a gold spoon poised for a moment over the
strawberry ice-cream with which Garth Dalmain had supplied her.

"In my country we should call it real mean to laugh, at people who had
been our guests and performed in our houses."

"In your country, my dear," said Myra Ingleby, "you have no duchesses."

"Well, we supply you with quite a good few," replied the American girl
calmly, and went on with her ice.

A general laugh followed; and the latest Anglo-American match came up
for discussion.

"Where is the Honourable Jane?" inquired someone presently.

"Golfing with Billy," said Ronald Ingram. "Ah, here they come."

Jane's tall figure was seen, walking along the terrace, accompanied by
Billy Cathcart, talking eagerly. They put their clubs away in the lower
hall; then came down the lawn together to the tea-tables.

Jane wore a tailor-made coat and skirt of grey tweed, a blue and white
cambric shirt, starched linen collar and cuffs, a silk tie, and a soft
felt hat with a few black quills in it. She walked with the freedom of