“She did very nicely,” said the Duchess, condescendingly, taking the ice from the young man whom she had so honoured. “Thanks, this will do very well, I don’t want to sit down. It is very kind of Mr. Tottenham, I am sure, to provide this entertainment for you. Do you all live here now?--and how many people may there be in the establishment? He told me, but I forget.” It was the gentleman who supplied the statistics, while the Duchess put up her eyeglass, and once more surveyed the assembly. “You must make up quite a charming society,” she said; “like a party in a country-house. And you have nice sitting-rooms for the evening, and little musical parties, eh? as so many can sing, I perceive; and little dances, perhaps?” “Oh no, Your Grace,” said one of the young ladies, mournfully. “We have practisings sometimes, when anything is coming off.” “And we have an excellent library, Your Grace,” said the gentleman, “and all the new books. There is a piano in the ladies’ sitting-room, and we gentlemen have chess and so forth, and everything extremely nice.” “And a great deal of gossip, I suppose,” said Her Grace; “and I hope you have _chaperons_ to see that there is not too much flirting.” “Oh, flirting!” said all three, in a chorus. “There is a sitting-room for the ladies, and another for the gentlemen,” the male member of the party said, somewhat primly, for he was one of the class of superintendents, vulgarly called shopwalkers, and he knew his place. “Oh--h!” said the Duchess, putting down her eyeglass; “then it must be a great deal less amusing than I thought!” “It was quite necessary, I assure you, Your Grace,” said the gentleman; and the two young ladies who had been tittering behind their fans, gave him each a private glance of hatred. They composed their faces, however, as Mr. Tottenham came up, called by the Duchess from another group. “You want me, Duchess?” how fine all Tottenham’s who were within hearing, felt at this--especially the privileged trio, to whom she had been talking, “Duchess!” that sublime familiarity elevated them all in the social scale. “Nothing is perfect in this world,” said Her Grace, with a sigh. “I thought I had found Utopia; but even your establishment is not all it might be. Why aren’t they all allowed to meet, and sing, and flirt, and bore each other every evening, as people do in a country house?” “Come, Duchess, and look at my shawls,” said Mr. Tottenham, with a twinkle out of his grey eyes. Her Grace accepted the bait, and sailed away, leaving the young ladies in a great flutter. A whole knot of them collected together to hear what had happened, and whisper over it in high excitement.