It was easily done, and after all at a minimum expense in tactics. Arran, acting as his Highness’s decoy, and with no thought but to accommodate his master in the sort of jest approved and applauded by the gallants of his day, found no difficulty in getting into communication with Mrs. Davis, or in arranging an accidental meeting with her. Of course, at that, Moll refused utterly to be beguiled offhand into committing herself to the mysterious interview entreated of her; she was pettish, wilful, distracting; she showed a complete obtuseness in realizing the nature of the rank which stood behind the summons; she was wholly childish and adorable, and she ended by chastising the impertinence which her innocent flirtations had seemed meant to provoke. And all the while she was calculating how best she could invite those second approaches to which she was resolved in her mind to succumb. The issue of that night decided her. The next day she sent a little private note of penitence to Arran, and that same evening saw her closeted with the Duke of York. There was none other present but the young Earl, retained, possibly, by his Royal Highness for the part of chaperon--a precaution not ill-advised, the Prince may have been disposed to think, when he came to re-view the visible attractions of his visitor. They were such, indeed, that he felt he would have to keep a definite guard on his susceptibilities if he were to come out of the interview unscathed. He would have had no objection in the world to take this sugared bonbon by the way, as a man might crunch a salted almond to add a zest to his wine; only the stake at issue was too instant. The bottle might pass while he was enjoying the appetizer. Wherefore he assumed from the first an air of coldness and restraint. He bowed to the lady, and assigned her a seat with a gesture. “My lord has informed you,” he said, “of my reason for desiring this meeting?” Mrs. Davis shook her pretty head. “Not he!” “O!” said the Duke. “It is explained in a few words. During a recent visit of ceremony I was paying to--how shall I name her--your unofficial hostess, I chanced to hear you singing outside the window of the room in which I was seated.” “La!” said Moll, with a shrug of her white shoulders; “to think of it! And I never guessed but I was alone.” She was not in the least overawed by the sacrosanctity of her company; she would have “answered back” to the Pope himself in his own coin of excommunication, or anything else, and certainly not less to a lay son of his, however illustrious. She had no bump of reverence whatever on her little noddle. “You have a rare voice, Mrs. Davis,” said the Prince. “It is a pity--is it not?--that it should be wasted on discord, when it might be so much more profitably employed in winning you a way to legitimate and decent fame.” Moll opened her eyes. This, for a beginning, was not at all the sort of thing she had expected. “What discord, if you please?” said she.