“Really, I was not so much bored as I had feared,” the Duchess remarked composedly. “That Stretton-Wynne woman generally gets on my nerves, but her nephew seemed to have a restraining effect upon her. She didn’t tell me more than once about her husband’s bad luck in not getting Canada, and she never even mentioned her girls. But I do think, Penelope,” she continued, “that I shall have to talk to you a little seriously. There’s the best-looking and richest young bachelor in London dying to marry you, and you won’t have a word to say to him. On the other hand, after starting by disliking him heartily, you are making yourself almost conspicuous with this fascinating young Oriental. I admit that he is delightful, my dear Penelope, but I think you should ask yourself whether it is quite worth while. Prince Maiyo may take home with him many Western treasures, but I do not think that he will take home a wife.” “If you say another word to me, aunt,” Penelope exclaimed, “I shall shriek!” The Duchess, being a woman of tact, laughed the subject away and pretended not to notice Penelope’s real distress. But when they had reached Devenham House, she went to the telephone and called up Somerfield. “Charlie,” she said,-- “Right o’!” he interrupted. “Who is it?” “Be careful what you are saying,” she continued, “because it isn’t any one who wants you to take them out to supper.” “I only wish you did,” he answered. “It’s the Duchess, isn’t it?” “The worst of having a distinctive voice,” she sighed. “Listen. I want to speak to you.” “I am listening hard,” Somerfield answered. “Hold the instrument a little further away from you,--that’s better.” “We have been to the Prince’s for tea this afternoon--Penelope and I,” she said. “I know,” he assented. “I was asked, but I didn’t see the fun of it. It puts my back up to see Penelope monopolized by that fellow,” he added gloomily. “Well, listen to what I have to say,” the Duchess went on. “Something happened there--I don’t know what--to upset Penelope very much. She never spoke a word coming home, and she has gone straight up to her room and locked herself in. Somehow or other the Prince managed to offend her. I am sure of that, Charlie!” “I’m beastly sorry,” Somerfield answered. “I meant to say that I was jolly glad to hear it.” The Duchess coughed. “I didn’t quite hear what you said before,” she said severely. “Perhaps it is just as well. I rang up to say that you had better come round and dine with us tonight. You will probably find Penelope in a more reasonable frame of mind.” “Awfully good of you,” Somerfield declared heartily. “I’ll come with pleasure.”