"He will be. _You_ can do what you like with him. I have discovered that already; he asked at once if you were here, and said how he liked you. Claude, you are so clever and so good! If any one can make him presentable, it is you!" She was wringing her white hands whiter yet. "I'll do my best, for all our sakes. I must say I like my material." "Oh, he's a dear fellow!" cried Lady Caroline, dropping her hands and uplifting her voice once more. "So original--in nothing more than in his moral courage--his superiority to mere conventional appearances! _That_ is a lesson----" Lady Caroline stopped with a little scream. In common with others, she had heard the high, shrill mewing of a kitten; but cats were a special aversion of her Ladyship's. "What was that?" she cried, tugging instinctively at her skirts. "Meow!" went the shrill small voice again; and all eyes fastened upon the Duke of St. Osmund's, whose ready-made coat-tails were moving like a bag of ferrets. The Duke burst into a hearty laugh, and diving in his coat-tail pocket, produced the offending kitten in his great fist. Lady Caroline Sellwood took a step backward; and because she did not lead it, there was no laugh this time from her guests; and because there was no laugh but his own, the Duke looked consciously awkward for the first time. In fact, it was the worst moment yet; the next, however, Olivia's pink palms were stretched out for the kitten, and Olivia's laughing voice was making the sweetest music that ever had gladdened the heart of the Duke. "The little darling!" cried the girl with genuine delight. "Let me have it, do!" He gave it to her without a word, but with eyes that clung as fast to her face as the tiny claws did to her dress. Olivia's attention was all for the kitten; she was serenely unconscious of that devouring gaze; but Claude saw it, and winced. And Lady Caroline saw it too. "Poor mite!" pursued Olivia, stroking the bunch of black fur with a cheek as soft. "What a shame to keep it smothered up in a stuffy pocket! Are you fond of cats?" she asked the Duke. "Am I not! They were my only mates up the bush. I brought over three besides the kitten." "You brought them from the bush?" "I did so!" Olivia looked at him; his eyes had never left her; she dropped hers, and caressed the kitten. "I put that one in my pocket," continued the Duke, "because I learned Livingstone to ride in front of me when he was just such another little 'un. But he'd done a bolt in the night; I found him just now with his three working paws black with your London soot; but he wasn't there when I got up, so I took the youngster. P'r'aps it wasn't over kind. It won't happen again. He's yours!" "The kitten?" "Why, certainly." "To keep?" "If you will. I'd be proud!" "Then _I_ am proud. And I'll try to be as kind to it as you would have been."