Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn was stopping both ears with his hands. "Mong doo! Mong doo!" he drawled. And then in that curiously official manner he sometimes dropped into, "Pray silence for the Admiral’s song!" It was a very irritating manner. Sir Peter made furiously towards him. "By Jehoshaphat—!" But Madame, ever alert, stopped him. She held out a full cup. "Sir Peter," she said, with her sweetest smile, indicating Mrs. Poskett, "take her another dish of tea." "Me, Ma’am!" protested the outraged Admiral; but there was no resisting that smile, and he took it like a lamb—an angry lamb. "It’s a confounded conspiracy," he growled. He thrust the tea under Mrs. Poskett’s nose. "Your tea, Ma’am!" "How sweet of you!" sobbed Mrs. Poskett. The Admiral danced with rage. "Dash it and hang it, Ma’am, you’re crying into it!" Marjolaine had taken Miss Ruth aside. "Where is Barbara?" she asked. "It’s enough to make a saint swear," answered Ruth, snappishly. "She’s been locked in with Doctor Johnson since Saturday. Locked in! Only comes out for meals." Marjolaine laughed quietly to herself. Sir Peter had been moving restlessly round the Walk. He now found himself face to face with Basil. "Pringle," he said, "can you tell me what’s come over the Walk?" Basil drew himself up. "The Walk has lofty ideals, sir," he said sternly. "Perhaps you have fallen short of them." He turned away and stalked towards Barbara’s house. The Admiral was left speechless. He—he! Admiral Sir Peter Antrobus—had been snubbed by Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, by Ruth, and now by this—this fiddler-fellow! He could only mutter, "Well!—blister my paint—!" He was aroused by the booming of Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn’s voice. "Yes, Ladies," that great man was saying, "Sherry was in fine condition on Saturday!" The Admiral was not going to hoist the white flag. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn must be put in his proper place. "And port, too, eh, Brooke, my boy?" Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn eyed him sternly and haughtily. "My name is Brooke-Hoskyn, sir, and I was referring to my Right Honourable friend, Richard Brinsley Sheridan!" "Why couldn’t you say so?" grumbled Sir Peter. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn continued. "As I was about to say when—" he looked contemptuously at the Admiral—"when I was interrupted—What wit! What brilliance!" "Oh, do tell us!" cried Ruth. The ladies all hung on his lips. He tasted the full flavour of popularity. He let it linger on his palate. He was in no hurry. "In order to appreciate the point, you must remember how sultry the weather was on Saturday." "Gave you a headache, what?" put in the irrepressible Admiral.