The Prime Minister sulked in-doors; and Kitty, with the most engaging smiles, made his apologies. The heat--the fatigue of the speech--a crushing headache, and a doctor's order!--he begged their Royal Highnesses to excuse him. The Royal Highnesses were at first astonished, inclined, perhaps, to take offence. But the party was so agreeable, and Lady Kitty so charming a hostess, that the Premier's absence was soon forgotten, and as the day cooled to a delicious evening, and the most costly bands from town discoursed a melting music, as garlanded boats appeared upon the river inviting passengers, and, with the dusk, fireworks began to ascend from a little hill; as the trees shone green and silver and rose-color in the Bengal lights, and amid the sweeping clouds of smoke the wide stretches of the park, the close-packed groups of human beings, appeared and vanished like the country and creatures of a dream--the success of Lady Kitty's fête, the fame of her gayety and her beauty, filled the air. She flashed hither and thither, in a dress embroidered with wild roses and a hat festooned with them--attended always by Eddie Helston, by various curates who cherished a hopeless attachment to her, and by a fat German grand-duke, who had come in the wake of the Royalties. Her cleverness, her resource, her organizing power were lauded to the skies, Royalty was gracious, and the grand-duke resentfully asked an aide-de-camp on the way home why he had not been informed that such a pretty person awaited him. "I should den haf looked beforehand--as vel as tinking behind," said the grand-duke, as he wrapped himself sentimentally in his military cloak, to meditate on Lady Kitty's brown eyes. Meanwhile Lord Parham remained closeted in his sitting-room with his secretary. Ashe tried to gain admittance, but in vain. Lord Parham pleaded great fatigue and his letters; and asked for a _Bradshaw_. "His lordship has inquired if there is a train to-night," said the little secretary, evidently much flustered. Ashe protested. And, indeed, as it turned out, there was no train worth the taking. Then Lord Parham sent a message that he hoped to appear at dinner. Kitty locked her door while she was dressing, and Ashe, whose mind was a confusion of many feelings--anger, compunction, and that fascination which in her brilliant moods she exercised over him no less than over others--could get no speech with her. They met on the threshold of the child's room, she coming out, he going in. But she wrenched herself from him and would say nothing. The report of the little boy was good; he smiled at his father, and Ashe felt a cooling balm in the touch of his soft hands and lips. He descended--in a more philosophical mind; inclined, at any rate, to "damn" Lord Parham. What a fool the man must be! Why couldn't he have taken it with a laugh, and so turned the tables on Kitty?