"Lots of them," replies Dodo, who speaks four languages, and her own worst of all. "All of them, pretty nearly. Mamma's on Pepper, and Lady Waverley's got Bopeep,--she's always nervous, you know. I can't see very much, 'cause of the ivy. Oh, there's the princess on Satan,--nobody else could ride Satan; Lord Brandolin's put her up, and now he's riding by her. They're gone now,--and papa's stopping behind them all to do something to Bopeep's girths." Whereat the dutiful Dodo laughs rudely, as she laughed coming home from church. The sound of the horses' hoofs going farther away down the avenue comes through the stillness, as her voice and her laughter cease. "What a shame to be shut up here just because one isn't old!" she groans, as she listens enviously. The sun is pouring liquid gold through the ivy-leaves, the air is hot and fragrant, gardeners are watering the flower-beds below, and the sweet, moist scent comes up to Dodo's nostrils and makes her writhe with longing to get out; not that she is by any means ardently devoted to nature, but she loves life, movement, gayety, and she dearly loves showing off her figure on her pony and being flirted with by her father's friends. "I am sure Lord Brandolin is in love with her, awfully in love," she says, as she peers into the distance, where the black form of Satan is just visible through far-off oak-boughs. "With whom?" asks Lilie, getting up from her caricature to lean also out over the ivy. "Xenia," says Dodo. She is very proud of calling her friend Xenia. "Take care Goggles don't wake, or she'll see what you've been doing." The lady from Deutschland was always known to them by this endearing epithet. "I don't care," says Lilie, kicking her bronze boots in the air. "Do you think she'll marry Lord Brandolin?" "Who? Goggles?" "The idea!" They laugh deliciously. "You say he's in love with Xenia. If they're in love they will marry," says Lilie, pensively. "No, they won't: people who are in love never marry," replies Dodo. "What do they do, then?" inquires the younger sister. "They marry somebody else, and ask the one they like to go and stay with them. It is much better," she adds. "It is what I shall do." "Why is it better? It's a roundabout way," objects Lilie. "I shouldn't care to marry at all," she adds, "only one can't ever be Mistress of the Robes if one doesn't." "Oh, everybody marries, of course; only some muff it, and don't get all they want by it," replies the cynic Dodo. "_Et l'amour, Miladi Alexandra?_" says the French governess, entering at that moment. "_Où donc mettez-vous l'amour?_" "_Nous ne sommes pas des bourgeoises_," returns Dodo, very haughtily.