"Please wait till the others are gone," He said; and passed on to a cocky little gentleman with a pink eye, and a plump bare-faced party who tried to stand easily in the cross-legged pose of the male photograph of 1864. These sank to their knees, but stood up again at a word. "Well, Holy Father, who would have thought," etcetera, from the first; and "Oh, I'm sure I shall never dare to call Your Holiness 'Boffin' again" from the second. "Yes you do," replied Hadrian; and gave them a blessing, to which the plump one nervously responded, "Quite so, I'm sure, as it were!" Another couple kneeled, a weird brief-bodied man in a pince-nez and a small suppressed woman with beautiful short-sighted eyes. They were raised; and the man would chatter like a hail-storm, wittily and with Gallic gesticulation, and quite insincerely. They were blessed; and the Pontiff went-on (with some elevation of gait) to the others. When the audience was over a slim gentleman in scarlet, with the delicate pensive beauty of a St. John the Divine by Gian Bellini, conducted the English family to the apostolic antechamber. Here Hadrian offered them some fruit and wine; and shewed them the view from the windows. "Now perhaps Mrs. Strong would like to see the garden," He presently said. It was a very happy thought. His Holiness carried His little yellow cat, and they all went down together; and strolled about the woods and the box-alleys and the vineyards. They picked the flowers; and the children picked the fruit. They admired the peacocks: and rested on white marble hemicycles in the sun-flecked shade of cypresses; and they talked of this, that, and the other, as well as these and those. A chamberlain came through the trees, and delivered a small veiled salver to the gentleman who followed the pontifical party at fifty paces. At the moment of departure he came near. The salver contained five little crosses of gold and chrysoberyls set in diamonds. Three were elaborate and two severely plain. Hadrian presented them to His guests. "You will accept a memorial of this happy day; and of course" (with that rare dear smile of His) "you will not expect the Pope to give you anything but popery. Good-bye, dear friends, good-bye." "How He has improved!" said the dark girl, as they went out. "O mother, and did you see the buckles on His shoes!" said the fair one. "I call Him a topper," said the boy. "He isn't a bit changed," said the wife to the silent husband. "I think that He has found His proper niche at last," the great man answered.