evoked a curious mixture of public interest
and unpopularity.

"Hurry along, my dear man," said the young Duke to the Minister, who
had given him a condescending nod; "your time is running short," he
continued in a provocative strain; "the whole inept crowd of you will
shortly be swept away into the world's waste-paper basket."

"You poor little strawberry-leafed nonentity," said the Minister,
checking himself for a moment in his stride and rolling out his words
spasmodically; "who is going to sweep us away, I should like to know?
The voting masses are on our side, and all the ability and
administrative talent is on our side too. No power of earth or Heaven
is going to move us from our place till we choose to quit it. No power
of earth or--"

Belturbet saw, with bulging eyes, a sudden void where a moment earlier
had been a Cabinet Minister; a void emphasized rather than relieved by
the presence of a puffed-out bewildered-looking sparrow, which hopped
about for a moment in a dazed fashion and then fell to a violent
cheeping and scolding.

"If we could understand sparrow-language," said the Duke serenely, "I
fancy we should hear something infinitely worse than 'strawberry-leafed
nonentity.'"

"But good Heavens, Eugene," said Belturbet hoarsely, "what has become
of-- Why, there he is! How on earth did he get there?" And he pointed
with a shaking finger towards a semblance of the vanished Minister,
which approached once more along the unfrequented path.

The Duke laughed.

"It is Quinston to all outward appearance," he said composedly, "but I
fancy you will find, on closer investigation, that it is an angel
understudy of the real article."

The Angel-Quinston greeted them with a friendly smile.

"How beastly happy you two look sitting there!" he said wistfully.

"I don't suppose you'd care to change places with poor little us,"
replied the Duke chaffingly.

"How about poor little me?" said the Angel modestly. "I've got to run
about behind the wheels of popularity, like a spotted dog behind a
carriage, getting all the dust and trying to look as if I was an
important part of the machine. I must seem a perfect fool to you
onlookers sometimes."

"I think you are a perfect angel," said the Duke.

The Angel-that-had-been-Quinston smiled and passed on his way, pursued
across the breadth of the Horse Guards Parade by a tiresome little
sparrow that cheeped incessantly and furiously at him.

"That's only the