case from his pocket, and extracted therefrom a sheet of note-paper.

"Mr. Lite drew this up under my supervision," he said. "It reads thus: 'I beg to say that I have every confidence in your buns. They look inviting on a counter, they should be nourishing, and they seem desirable in every respect. Your influence upon the digestions of our children is, I feel almost certain, such as will commend itself to all who have the desire ebullient within them to advance the cause of humanity.' Place for signature: 'Lady Sophia Tree.' I think Mr. Gladstone could scarcely improve upon that."

And Mr. Rodney again observed his boots.

"Mamma has only to sign that? She needn't eat anything?"

"Only to sign, I assure you."

"Then I am sure she will do it. She likes to see herself in print, and, as you know, has a fancy for authorship. You may have seen her name in the Pall Mall Magazine and The Lady's Realm?"

Mr. Rodney bent his head.

"Often. Then that is happily arranged. I am dining[Pg 42] with Mr. Lite to-night at the Crystal Palace to clinch the matter finally."

[Pg 42]

Mrs. Verulam's eyes filled with tears.

"You are dining at the Crystal Palace for me? Oh, Mr. Rodney!"

For a moment she was quite overcome. Nor was he entirely unmoved, although, manlike, he rigidly controlled the expression of a feeling that did him honour. He cleared his throat twice, it is true, but when he spoke again his voice was perfectly calm and natural.

"You will send this by messenger to Lady Sophia?"

"I will."

"And now as to your Ascot house-party."

At these words Mrs. Verulam was recalled to all her perplexities, and she involuntarily murmured:

"Chloe Van Adam!"

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