"The smokin'-room," interpolated Leroy, "is all right for the regular Philistine. But if _I_ go there, I find it in possession of a bilious octogenarian and a retired major-general. They are sittin' in front of the fire with a cigar apiece. They glare at me when I come in, and then go on buckin' to each other. Presently they stop, and one says: 'I suppose you are not a dancin' man, sir,' in a way which implies that he doesn't know what the devil young men are comin' to nowadays. And by this time I'm so ashamed of myself that I simply bolt out of the room, with some yarn about a brief rest between two dances, and go and sit among the hats and coats in the cloak-room until it is time to go and hunt up the next freak on my programme. Rotten job, I call it!" Mrs. Leroy surveyed the three orators with an air of serene amusement. "I _have_ roused a storm," she said. "But you are coming on Tuesday--all three! Now, Hughie, I know Jack is dying to take you round the stables and plantations. When you have smacked all the horses' backs and taken the pheasants' temperatures, come in. I want to introduce you to my offspring. You are fond of children, I know." "I know I shall be fond of yours, Mildred," said Hughie. "Thank you--that's nicely put. But they really are rather pets, though I say it who shouldn't." "Rum little beggars," mused the male parent. "Bite your head off if they see you havin' a sherry and bitters before dinner. Got a sort of religious maniac of a nurse," he explained. "Been saved, and all that. Save _you_ for tuppence, Marrable!" "She's a queer old thing," said Mrs. Leroy, "but such a good nurse that her weaknesses don't matter much. The children are never sick or sorry--wait till I tap wood! your head will do, Jack--and simply love her." "I was pleased to learn from their own lips," remarked D'Arcy, "that they have been enthusiastic teetotalers from birth, and are both ardent supporters of Foreign Missions." "And the baby?" inquired Hughie. "Too young," replied Leroy; "but that doesn't excuse the poor little sinner from havin' to wear a blue ribbon." "How does the nurse regard you, Leroy?" asked D'Arcy. "Lost sheep--hard case--bad egg generally," replied that gentleman resignedly. "She's given me up, I'm glad to say; but she'll be on Hughie's track in no time. Come along." In the joy of roaming round the familiar plantations and stables Hughie allowed the existence of Mildred Leroy's offspring to fade from his memory; and it was not until the party gathered for luncheon that he was reminded of the introduction in store for him.