"Ah,--ah, I see," drawled Mr. Moody. "Your son? Yes, yes." And then, as an afterthought, with a slight elevation of one eyebrow, "Bless my soul, Mrs. Smith-Parvis, you amaze me. It's incredible. You cawn't convince me that you have a son as old as--Well, now, really it's a bit thick." "I--I'm not spoofing you, Mr. Moody," cried Mrs. Smith-Parvis delightedly. His face relaxed slightly. One might have detected the faint, suppressed gleam of a smile in his eyes,--but it was so brief, so evanescent that it would be folly to put it down as such. The ensuing five minutes were devoted entirely to manoeuvres on the part of all three. Mrs. Smith-Parvis was trying to shunt Mrs. Millidew on to an ordinary salesman, and Mrs. Millidew was standing her ground, resolute in the same direction. The former couldn't possibly inspect heirlooms under the eye of that old busy-body, nor could the latter resort to cajolery in the effort to obtain a certain needle-point chair at bankrupt figures. As for Mr. Moody, he was splendid. The lordliest duke in all of Britain could not have presented a truer exemplification of lordliness than he. He quite outdid himself. The eighth letter in the alphabet behaved in a most gratifying manner; indeed, he even took chances with it, just to see how it would act if he were not watching it,--and not once did it fail him. "But, of course, one never can find anything one wants unless one goes to the really exclusive places, you know," Mrs. Smith-Parvis was saying. "It is a waste of time, don't you think?" "Quate--oh, yes, quate," drawled Mr. Moody, in a roving sort of way. That is to say, his interest seemed to be utterly detached, as if nothing that Mrs. Smith-Parvis said really mattered. "Naturally we try to find things in the cheaper places before we come here," went on the lady boldly. "More int'resting," said Mr. Moody, indulgently eyeing a great brass lanthorn that hung suspended over Mrs. Millidew's bonnet,--but safely to the left of it, he decided. "I've been looking for something odd and quaint and--and--you know,--of the Queen Anne period,--trinkets, you might say, Mr. Moody. What have you in that--" "Queen Anne? Oh, ah, yes, to be sure,--Queen Anne. Yes, yes. I see. 'Pon my soul, Mrs. Smith-Parvis, I fear we haven't anything at all. Most uncommon dearth of Queen Anne material nowadays. We cawn't get a thing. Snapped up in England, of course. I know of some extremely rare pieces to be had in New York, however, and, while I cannot procure them for you myself, I should be charmed to give you a letter to the dealer who has them." "Oh, how kind of you. That is really most gracious of you." "Mr. Juneo, of Juneo & Co., has quite a stock," interrupted Mr. Moody tolerantly,--"quite a remarkable collection, I may say. Indeed, nothing finer has been brought to New York in--in--in--"