“No wonder, as he never opens his mouth,” Baby laughs. “What do they have a lot of dummies for in Parliament?” “Oh, just to make the whole thing look more imposing than it is, I suppose,” Trixy drawls languidly. “Very likely they prefer most of the members not speaking, as the stupid ones might let out the secrets to the Opposition.” “_Gladstone speaks!_” Gabrielle announces solemnly, as if it is not a remarkably well-known fact. “He has been known to speak for three days and three nights without pausing to take breath even, and his eloquence has so overwhelmed the House----” “With sleep, that no one ever got at the real meaning of his speeches,” interrupts incorrigible Baby. “Any way, the Irish didn’t. My Hargreaves is an Irishman (that is why he was christened Gladstone Beaconsfield I dare say. The Irish muddle up politics so, you know), and he told me that in Paddy land _Gladstone_ is the new name for _Blarney-stone_.” “I wish you would not regale us with the imbecile witticisms of your Vet, Mirabelle,” Gabrielle mutters crossly, for she worships the G.O.M., and feels a slash at him acutely. And Baby knows she is wroth, for it is in ire only that she calls her Mirabelle, but Baby cares for nothing or nobody. “My Hargreaves is _not_ a vet, now. He is assistant riding-master to the great Challen.” “Baby, is this why you coaxed the governor into letting you have riding-lessons?” Zai questions anxiously. Baby springs up from the hearth-rug, and turning a pirouette, pauses beside her pet sister. Leaning over she whispers in her ear: “It is, but if you promise not to peach, Zai, I’ll tell you something about----” “Who?” Zai whispers back, colouring vividly. “C. C., but not before Gabrielle and Trixy.” Zai blushes more deeply still as she bends over her drawing, and wonders if the letters C. C. will always send the blood surging over her face and set her pulses throbbing. In spite of his heartless conduct at Elm Lodge she loves him dearly still, and lives from day to day in the hope that the clouds will clear away, and give her back the sunshine of life--Carl’s love and presence. And as she sits and drops off into a sweet waking dream, Gabrielle’s voice startles her, and drags her back into everyday existence. “Seven o’clock! We must be off and dress for dinner. There goes the first bell. Zai, there’s a treat in store for you to-night.” Zai looks up, the dreamy expression still lingering in her eyes. A treat! For one moment she really fancies “he” is going to appear somewhere or somehow, but the next instant she fully awakens to her folly. “Lord Delaval dines with us to-night, and afterwards we are all going to the theatre.” “_What_ theatre?” Zai asks quickly. “The Bagatelle, to see ‘Hearts _versus_ Diamonds.’” “And ‘_him_!’” Zai thinks to herself, waxing white as a lily at such an ordeal with Lord Delaval’s mocking smile before her, and Lord Delaval’s cold, keen gaze watching her face.