The door closed. The Duke dashed to the window, furtively drew the blind a little aside, and looked out. “Upon my word!” said the Duke. “Yes, upon my word!” he reflected, twisting his moustache as he returned to the table. Frank entered, holding a silver salver. “With Miss Angela Hordern’s compliments, your Grace.” “Thank you, Frank. You can serve the fish; and beg Alphonse in future to wait for his cue.” “Very good, your Grace.” Frank withdrew, and the Duke examined the paper which he had taken from the salver. It acquired a certain interest from having passed through Miss Angela’s hands. The Duke fingered it delicately and eyed it pensively. It was entitled “A Dram for a Drinker; or, Just a Drop to do you Good.” “A neat title,” the Duke mused, “but perhaps liable to defeat its own object by evoking a reminiscence too pleasurable.” Frank entered with the fish. “Frank, I am at home next time Miss Hordern calls. You are not--nor Monsieur Alphonse.” “Very good, your Grace,” Frank answered. “Your Grace will answer the door yourself?” The Duke had overlooked the point. He did not feel that he could answer a door at all plausibly. “Leave it on the jar,” he commanded, in a happy inspiration. But when he was left alone his brow clouded a little. “Suppose the mother comes!” he thought. His face cleared. “She shall see Alphonse and Frank. And I will see Miss Angela.” He lit his cigar with a composed cheerfulness. “It is impossible,” he said meditatively, “to deny the interest of a sociological experiment. I am, however, inclined to hope that it will rain very hard to-morrow.” He stroked his back warily as he slid into a chair. II He rose early the next morning--and observed the weather anxiously. It rained heavily. “Good,” said he, feeling his back. “One can’t dig in the wet. I shall have time to arrange affairs.” He had, in fact, tasks of no small difficulty to achieve. The first was with Monsieur Alphonse. The Duke courteously requested the _chef’s_ presence, Frank being the intermediary. Alphonse came. “Monsieur,” said the Duke, “I have to make a communication to you.” “_Hélas, Monsieur le Duc!_” said Monsieur Alphonse. “I shall not dine to-night. No, I sha’n’t have any dinner at all to-night.” “But this is worse than anything I had expected!” “I shall have tea--at seven.” “_Mais_----” said Alphonse. “Bread-and-butter, thickish; and tea--the tea of the grocer _du pays_.” “_Miséricorde!! Monsieur le Duc_ will sup?” “Possibly. As for tea, I understand that it would be appropriate if you added a shrimp. Monsieur, we play a part!” “A part, _Monsieur le Duc_?” “There’s a lady in the case, Alphonse.” “Everything explains itself!” cried Alphonse, looking as though he might be about to throw himself on the Duke’s bosom. “And she loves ze shrimp?” “Adores it.” “It is not to be had in this wilderness, I fear.”