Kissing his fingers to Chockey, off puts Sir Percy’s own man to the Mermaid; stables his horse; hires a fresh one; claps spurs, and up to town as fast as four spavined bay legs can carry him, firmly convinced that he has solved the greater portion of the mystery, and that his master’s lady fair is indeed, beyond a doubt, the bride of the gallant Sir Robin, or mayhap his unwilling prisoner. [Illustration] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Illustration] VII _In which is set down how My Lady is whisked off to a rout, willy-nilly, at the home of her hated rival._ Mr. Brummell was a most shrewd and an altogether kindly personage as well; he had easily, on alighting from his carriage and assisting Lady Peggy to do the same, espied the disreputable looking parcel which the supposed son of his dear old friend vainly tried to conceal; and the Beau was not long of putting two and two together, and of concluding that young Sir Robin had lost his all at play, and had even perhaps pawned his wardrobe,—saving the ill-looking bundle—for the price of his last few days’ food. Therefore it was, that, in the most obliging manner, he not only installed Sir Robin in an elegant and spacious apartment, but vowed he would at once send for both his tailor and perruquier to wait upon him, and ended by assuring his guest that his own man Tempers would be up presently to make the young gentleman’s toilet for him. “Your pardon, Sir, Mr. Brummell,” quoth Peggy, while her maiden heart set off at such a race-horse flutter as it seemed must never quiet down. “But, pray you, remember I am country-bred, unused to town ways, have never had a man to wait upon me in my life” (the solemn truth!) “and should never know how to comport myself in such altered conditions.” The Beau shrugged his shoulders in the French fashion, lifted his eyebrows, thought ’twas amazing strange that Sir Hector’s son should have been so ill educated; said: “Your pleasure, Sir, whilst under my roof, shall be mine; nor can I misdoubt but that one who has had the genius to invent that tie is amply able to array and perfume himself, even to the dressing of his own wig.” “You flatter, Sir, I protest!” answered the guest. “I await with impatience the moment when, in cleaner case, I may have the honor of instructing you in the intricacies of the knot you are good enough to admire.” With any number of bows, the distinguished host closed the door, and My Lady Peggy was left to herself.