When Mary went into the dining-room where Ralph was making an excellent meal, and telling stories of the bush which delighted his little audience, her color was heightened, her dove’s eyes were clear and humid, almost with tears in them. She had seldom in her life looked so well, though of this she was quite unconscious. Her great reluctance gave her an air of dignity as well as that of duty painfully fulfilled. She went in very slowly, holding her head higher than usual, though it was a sense of humiliation and not pride that so moved her. Lord Frogmore had been persuaded to join the bushman in his luncheon, having evidently been assured that this was the luncheon of the house, Letitia not being well enough to be out of her room. Ralph was seated at his meal with his mouth full, talking as he munched, and praising the excellent cold beef as he talked. Cold beef for Lord Frogmore! Saunders indeed had endeavored to interfere, to explain that the family lunch was an hour later, that this was only for Mr. Ravelstone because of his train, and that to set cold beef before the distinguished guest was the last thing in the world that would have been contemplated. But Lord Frogmore had paid no attention, and sat quite pleased, mincing his cold beef into small morsels, and laughing at Ralph’s stories. Little Duke had clambered up upon his high chair and sat between the two men, turning his small head from one to another as they talked with great attention, with the precocious civility of a host paying solemn attention to his guests. Duke did not laugh at the Australian’s jokes because he did not understand them, but he gazed at Lord Frogmore who did, and looked from one to another with a curious consciousness of the inferiority of those mysteriously excited persons who gesticulated and declaimed and laughed and applauded to his own small gravity and dignity, something like that which we can imagine rising in the consciousness of an intelligent animal at sight of human eccentricities. Duke thought it very funny that they should laugh so much. What was there to laugh about? Ralph sprang up from the table, making a great noise, and with his knife and fork in his hands, when Mary appeared. “Hallo!” he cried. “Here we have begun like a couple of ill-bred pigs without thinking of Miss Hill. A plate and napkin for Miss Hill, and look sharp you there! What can you think of us to begin without you? I give you my word I never gave it a thought.” “Please sit down,” said Mary. “I want nothing. I only came--that is Letitia sent me--to see that you had everything you want. To see that there was a proper lunch----” “Letitia’s very kind, but she might have come herself. There’s excellent cold beef--isn’t it excellent, my Lord Frogmore? They think it’s not good enough for you, evidently, but it’s plenty good enough for me. I prefer it to all the kickshaws in the world. Sit down and try a bit, Mary, it’ll do you good.”