“And if he asks why I do let them in?” “He won’t do that; he goes there.” The duke was silent. He sighed. He could not mend the manners or the men of a time which was out of tune with him. But Cocky’s argument had weight. He was of all things kind and chivalrous, and would have no more caused a scandal or a scene than he would have set fire to St. James’s Palace next door to him. He reflected on the matter; saw clearly how ugly it was, look at it how you would, and at last conceded permission to let the new people come on the condition, however, that they should not be introduced to himself. “I am too old,” he said, “to digest American cheese.” His daughter-in-law, who did not care in the least for this stipulation, went gaily to luncheon at Harrenden House, and interested herself graciously about their costumes, which were a source of great anxiety to both of them. “May I wear my diamonds?” asked Mrs. Massarene; her diamonds were a great resource and support to her in society. “Oh, the more diamonds the better?” said Mouse. “Of course you’ll go as somebody’s grandmother, a Hyde perhaps? You need only telegraph to your people in Paris the epoch; they’ll know exactly what to send you; they know your age and appearance.” Margaret Massarene was not pleased, and felt that persons of high rank could be most unpleasantly rude. “What time is it?” asked her lord, who had not rightly understood. “Charles the Second’s. Do you know who Charles the Second was?” asked Mouse with a malicious little laugh. “Him as had his head took off?” asked Mr. Massarene. Her laugh became a melodious scream of delight. “Oh, you are too delightful! There were no standards in your young days, were there, Billy?” He reddened angrily under his thick dull skin; he was ashamed of his blunder, and he hated to be called Billy, even by those lovely lips. Finally it was decided that he should go as Titus Oates, and should get his dress from Paris, and should learn to say, “O Lard.” “Remember, the man is not to speak to me, not to approach me,” said Otterbourne to his daughter-in-law on the day of the ball, when she had come to give a glance at the completed decorations. “Oh, he quite understands that,” she replied. “I have told him you dislike strange men, as some people are afraid of strange dogs.” She laughed gaily as she spoke. “You might have told him,” said the duke drily, “that there are old-fashioned persons who think that their acquaintance should be kept as clean as their hands.” “_That_ he wouldn’t understand,” replied Mouse. “What makes you protect such people?” “Oh! I don’t know! In other ages everybody had a pet jester; now everybody has a pet _parvenu_. One runs him; it’s great fun.” The duke was silent. “You know,” she continued, “he bought Vale Royal of Gerald. Surely all the family ought to be rather nice to him?”