turned to introduce the little group of strangers who had
accompanied him.

"Father," he said, "these are my friends. On the strength of your letter
I've taken the liberty of asking them to be my guests as well."

"They're very welcome to the palace," said the Bishop.

Cecil turned, and leading the two ladies forward, presented them to his
father and his aunt. Miss Matilda swept them both with a comprehensive
glance, and addressing Mrs. Mackintosh, remarked:

"Your daughter, I presume," indicating Miss Arminster. Whereupon the
good lady coloured violently and denied the fact.

"Your niece?" insisted Miss Matilda, who was an excellent catechist, as
generations of unfortunate children could bear witness.

"A young lady whom I'm chaperoning in Europe," replied Mrs. Mackintosh
stiffly, in an effort to be truthful, and at the same time to furnish
Violet with a desirable status in the party.

The tragedian was now brought forward.

"Allow me," said Banborough, in pursuance of a prearranged scheme of
action--"allow me to introduce my friend Professor Tybalt Smith. You,
father, are of course acquainted with his scholarly work on monumental
brasses."

The Bishop naturally was not conversant with the book in question,
because it had never been written, but he was entirely too pedantic to
admit the fact; so he smiled, and congratulated the Professor most
affably on what he termed "his well-known attainments," assuring him
that he would find in the cathedral a rich field of research in his
particular line of work.

Spotts was now brought up, and introduced as a rising young architect of
ecclesiastical tendencies, which delighted his Lordship immensely as
there was nothing he liked better than to explain every detail of his
cathedral to an appreciative listener.

"I've a bit of old dog-tooth I shall want you to look at to-morrow,"
said his host, "and there's some Roman tiling in the north transept that
absolutely demands your attention."

Spotts smiled assent, but was evidently bewildered, and seizing the
first opportunity that offered, asked Cecil in a low voice if his father
took him for a dentist or a mason.

"For a dentist or a mason?" queried Banborough. "I don't understand."

"Well, anyway, he said something about looking after his old dog's teeth
and attending to his tiles."

Cecil exploded in a burst of laughter, saying:

"That's only the architectural jargon, man. You must play the game."

"Oh, I see,"