"Ah, even the biggest ass among them holds his tongue about that!" he said, exultantly. "But, hallo! What does that call itself?" He looked at a picture in front of him, then at the catalogue, then at the Duchess. "That picture is ours," said the Duchess. "Isn't it a dear? It's a Leonardo da Vinci." "Leonardo fiddlesticks!" cried Lord Lackington. "Leonardo, indeed! What absurdity! Really, Duchess, you should tell Crowborough to be more careful about his things. We mustn't give handles to these fellows." "What do you mean?" said the Duchess, offended. "If it isn't a Leonardo, pray what is it?" "Why, a bad school copy, of course!" said Lord Lackington, hotly. "Look at the eyes"--he took out a pencil and pointed--"look at the neck, look at the fingers!" The Duchess pouted. "Oh!" she said. "Then there is something in fingers!" Lord Lackington's face suddenly relaxed. He broke into a shout of laughter, _bon enfant_ that he was; and the Duchess laughed, too; but under cover of their merriment she, mindful of quite other things, drew him a little farther away from Julie. "I thought you had asked her to Nonpareil for Easter?" she said, in his ear, with a motion of her pretty head towards Julie in the distance. "Yes, but, my dear lady, Blanche won't come home! She and Aileen put it off, and put it off. Now she says they mean to spend May in Switzerland--may perhaps be away the whole summer! I had counted on them for Easter. I am dependent on Blanche for hostess. It is really too bad of her. Everything has broken down, and William and I (he named his youngest son) are going to the Uredales' for a fortnight." Lord Uredale, his eldest son, a sportsman and farmer, troubled by none of his father's originalities, reigned over the second family "place," in Herefordshire, beside the Wye. "Has Aileen any love affairs yet?" said the Duchess, abruptly, raising her face to his. Lord Lackington looked surprised. "Not that I know of. However, I dare say they wouldn't tell me. I'm a sieve, I know. Have you heard of any? Tell me." He stooped to her with roguish eagerness. "I like to steal a march on Blanche." So he knew nothing--while half their world was talking! It was very characteristic, however. Except for his own hobbies, artistic, medical, or military, Lord Lackington had walked through life as a Johnny Head-in-Air, from his youth till now. His children had not trusted him with their secrets, and he had never discovered them for himself. "Is there any likeness between Julie and Aileen?" whispered the Duchess.