Then the conversation flagged. The hostess tried to draw out her guests. They were obviously anxious to behave. Lissa posed for 'The Sketch,' Zoé remained _très correcte_. 'Do you like my pictures?' asked Victoria pointing to the French engravings. 'They are very pretty,' said Lissa. 'I am very interested in engravings,' said Zoé, looking at the rosewood clock. There was a longish pause. 'I must show you my little dogs,' cried Victoria. She must do something. She went out to the landing and opened the garden door. There she met Augusta carrying a trayful of finger bowls. She felt inspired to overturn it if only to break the ice. Snoo and Poo rushed in, but in the boudoir they also instinctively became very well-bred. 'I am very fond of dogs,' said Lissa. Snoo lay down on her back. 'She is very pretty,' remarked Zoé. Victoria punched the dogs in the ribs, rolled them over. It was no good. They would do nothing but gently wag their tails. She felt she would like to swear, when suddenly the front door was slammed, a cheerful voice rang in the hall. 'Hulloa, here's Duckie,' said Lissa. The door opened loudly and Duckie seemed to rush in as if seated on a high wind. 'Here we are again!' cried the buxom presence in white. Every one of her frills rattled like metal. 'Late as usual. Oh, Vic, what angel pups!' Duckie was on her knees. In a moment she had stirred up the Pekingese. They forgot their manners. They barked vociferously; and Zoé's starch was taken out of her by Poo, who rushed under her skirts. Lissa laughed and jumped up. 'Here Vic,' said Duckie ponderously, 'give us a hand, old girl. Never can jump about after gin and bitters,' she added confidentially as they helped her up. The ice was effectually broken. They filed into the dining-room in pairs, Victoria and Lissa being slim playing the part of men. How they gobbled up the hors d'oeuvres and how golden the John Dory was; the flanks of the fish shone like an old violin. Augusta flitted about quick but noisy. There was a smile on her face. 'Steady on, old love,' said Duckie to her as the maid inadvertently poured her claret into a tumbler. 'Never you mind, Gussie,' cried Zoé, bursting with familiarity, 'she'll be having it in a bucket by and by.' Augusta laughed. What easy going _herrschaft_! The talk was getting racier now. By the time they got to the dessert the merriment was rather supper than lunch-like. 'Victoria plums,' said Lissa, 'let us name them _Bonne Hotesse_.' The idea was triumphant. Duckie insisted on drinking a toast in hock, for she never hesitated to mix her wines. Victoria smiled at them indulgently. The youth of all this and the jollity, the ease of it; all that was not of her old class.