"Isn't she _gor-ge-ous_?" whispered Gyp to Jerry as they peeped over Mrs. Westley's shoulder. Jerry thought Aunt Maria very grand--she was like the picture of the Duchess in her old Alice in Wonderland, only much more regal. It seemed to her that the entire Westley family should bow their heads to the floor--instead Mrs. Westley was embracing the purple and ermine in the most informal sort of a way! "----_such_ a train--a _disgrace_ to the government, but then the government is going _all_ to pieces, I believe! And that miserable _robber_ of a taxi man! _Mon Dieu!_" She suddenly remembered her French, "Ma chere amie Beaux Infants!" She sputtered her newly-acquired phrases with little guttural accents. She beamed upon them all, graciousness (as became a duchess) in every nod of the purple plumes. With the tips of her fat, jeweled fingers she touched Isobel's cheek. "Plus jolie que jamais, ma chere!" "Nous sommes si heureux de vous avoir ici, chere Aunt Maria," answered Isobel, falteringly. "Aunt _Marie_, my dear. I have forsaken the good name that was given to me in baptism. One _must_ keep apace with the times, and though Maria might be good enough for my greatgrandmother, my parents did not foresee that it was scarcely suitable for _me_!" The purple folds swelled visibly. "Peregrine, carry my bags upstairs." That was plainly more than one Peregrine could do. It was the welcome signal for a general movement--none too soon; one glance at Gyp and Graham told that a moment more must have broken their pretty manner! Peregrine took one bag, Graham seized two, Gyp and Jerry tugged one between them. The procession marched up the stairway to the guest-room. Gyp and Jerry heard Aunt Maria, behind them, explaining that Peregrine's name was really Sarah! "I changed it--Peregrine is so much more 'chic.' I'm teaching her French myself; in a little while she'll pass as a French maid and she will have all the plain common-sense of her Hoosier bringing-up which those fly-by-night French maids don't. A _very_ good arrangement--_I_ think." Thereafter, Peregrine, to the girls, was always Peregrine-Sarah. Mrs. Westley, at dinner, looking down the table at the prim, sober faces of her youngsters, had an irresistible desire to laugh. Graham's solemn eyes were glued to his plate, Gyp, spotlessly groomed, spoke only in hoarse whispers, Jerry looked a little frightened--what would she do if the Duchess should speak to _her_. (Not that there was much danger; Aunt Maria, except for a "from the wilds of our mountains, how interesting," had scarcely noticed her.) Isobel sat next to Aunt Maria and was nervously attentive.