“There you are again--the virtuous English mother! I’ve got Aggie’s little fortune in an old stocking and I count it over every night. If you’ve no old stocking for Nanda there are worse fates than shoemakers and grasshoppers. Even WITH one, you know, I don’t at all say that I should sniff at poor Mitchy. We must take what we can get and I shall be the first to take it. You can’t have everything for ninepence.” And the Duchess got up--shining, however, with a confessed light of fantasy. “Speak to him, my dear--speak to him!” “Do you mean offer him my child?” She laughed at the intonation. “There you are once more--vous autres! If you’re shocked at the idea you place drolement your delicacy. I’d offer mine to the son of a chimney-sweep if the principal guarantees were there. Nanda’s charming--you don’t do her justice. I don’t say Mr. Mitchett’s either beautiful or noble, and he certainly hasn’t as much distinction as would cover the point of a pin. He doesn’t mind moreover what he says--the lengths he sometimes goes to!--but that,” added the Duchess with decision, “is no doubt much a matter of how he finds you’ll take it. And after marriage what does it signify? He has forty thousand a year, an excellent idea of how to take care of it and a good disposition.” Mrs. Brookenham sat still; she only looked up at her friend. “Is it by Lord Petherton that you know of his excellent idea?” The Duchess showed she was challenged, but also that she made allowances. “I go by my impression. But Lord Petherton HAS spoken for him.” “He ought to do that,” said Mrs. Brookenham--“since he wholly lives on him.” “Lord Petherton--on Mr. Mitchett?” The Duchess stared, but rather in amusement than in horror. “Why, hasn’t he a--property?” “The loveliest. Mr. Mitchett’s his property. Didn’t you KNOW?” There was an artless wail in Mrs. Brookenham’s surprise. “How should I know--still a stranger as I’m often rather happy to feel myself here and choosing my friends and picking my steps very much, I can assure you--how should I know about all your social scandals and things?” “Oh we don’t call THAT a social scandal!” Mrs. Brookenham inimitably returned. “Well, if you should wish to you’d have the way I tell you of to stop it. Divert the stream of Mr. Mitchett’s wealth.” “Oh there’s plenty for every one!”--Mrs. Brookenham kept up her tone. “He’s always giving us things--bonbons and dinners and opera-boxes.” “He has never given ME any,” the Duchess contentedly declared. Mrs. Brookenham waited a little. “Lord Petherton has the giving of some. He has never in his life before, I imagine, made so many presents.” “Ah then it’s a shame one has nothing!” On which before reaching the door, the Duchess changed the subject. “You say I never bring Aggie. If you like I’ll bring her back.” Mrs. Brookenham wondered. “Do you mean today?” “Yes, when I’ve picked her up. It will be something to do with her till Miss Merriman can take her.”