"Really, Sir Grantley, it was very tiresome," said her ladyship. "He, he, he!" laughed his lordship, putting his handkerchief to his mouth, and bending down in his chair to laugh with all the enjoyment of a schoolboy at Tom's monkeyish trick. "My dear!" exclaimed her ladyship. "I--I--I was laughing at the con--con--confounded impudence of that dog," said his lordship, mendaciously; and her ladyship mentally promised him one of her lectures. "It was an accident that cannot possibly occur again," continued her ladyship. "Maude, my darling, pray go and take off your things. Sir Grantley, you will stay lunch?" "Thanks, no," said the baronet, changing his position, giving his hat a turn, and flourishing out the Bath bun, which fell upon the carpet before him. Her ladyship put up her eye-glass and stared at the bun; Sir Grantley gave his an extra twist and also stared at the bun, poking at it with his stick; and Maude and Tryphie escaped from the room. "Didn't know you were so fond of buns, Wilters," said Tom. "You should have them put in a paper bag. They make your hat lining sticky." "That's doosed funny, Diphoos," said Sir Grantley. "Very fond of a joke. By the way, the amateurs are going to get up a pantomime next season. Won't you join them? I'll put in a word for you. Make a doosed good clown, don't you know.--I think I had him there," said the baronet to himself. "I will, if you'll play pantaloon," said Tom sharply. "You'd look the part to perfection." "Yas, doosed good," said Sir Grantley. "Day, Lady Barmouth; must go. Day, Lord Barmouth;" and with a short nod at Tom, he left the house. "Tom," exclaimed her ladyship, "if you insult Sir Grantley any more like that you shall suffer for it. If you behave like that, you will be the means of breaking off a most brilliant match." "Thanks," said Tom, quietly, as her ladyship was sailing out of the room. "You can't make things worse for me." "Tom, my boy," said his lordship, "you are--are--are--a regular lion, that you are. I don't know what I should do without you." "Fight for yourself, father, I hope," said the viscount, smiling, "I'm afraid I do more harm than good." Meanwhile, Sir Grantley Wilters, who had not the slightest thought of breaking off the match, let Diphoos behave as he would, went to keep a particular engagement that he had with Monsieur Hector Launay, who was singing away to himself about "La--Fran-ce--et--la--guer-re," and standing before a glass with a pair of scissors cutting his black hair close to his skull. He was ready on the instant, though, as Sir Grantley entered, showed him into his private room, and upon the baronet stating his case, to wit, his uneasiness about his hair, which he said was getting thin on the crown, gave the most earnest attention to the subject. "I shouldn't mind so much," said Sir Grantley; "but I'm--er--going to be mar'd shortly, and I want to look my best."