She was coming slowly along examining the plants in the border with the interest of a garden-lover, and pointing out by means of her umbrella the various successes to a man the Bishop took to be one of her party. He was a big man in ill-fitting shiny black with something of the air of one of the less reputable Cabinet Ministers and was, in fact, Herr Dremmel; but no one except Herr Dremmel knew it. He had arrived that afternoon, a man animated by a single purpose, which was to marry Ingeborg as soon as possible and get back quickly to his work; and he had come straight from the station to the Palace and walked in unquestioned with all the others, and after a period of peering about in the drawing-room for Ingeborg had drifted out into the garden, where he had at once stumbled upon the Duchess, who was being embittered by a prebendary of servile habits who insisted on agreeing with her as to the Latin name of a patch of Prophet-flower when she knew all the time she was wrong. "You tell me," she said, turning on Herr Dremmel who was peering at them. "What shall I tell you, madam?" he inquired, politely sweeping off his felt hat and bowing beautifully. "This. What is its name? I've forgotten." Herr Dremmel, who took a large interest in botany, immediately told her. "Of course," said the Duchess. "I knew it was Arnebia even when I said it was something else. It's a borage." "_Arnebia echinoides_, madam," said Herr Dremmel peering closer. "A native of Armenia." "Of course they'll conquer us," remarked the Duchess to the prebendary. "Oh, of course," he agreed, though he did not take her meaning, for he had been a prebendary some time and was a little slow, intellectually, at getting under way. Then the Duchess dropped him and turned entirely to Herr Dremmel, who though he had never seen a herbaceous border in his life by sheer reasoning was able to tell her very intimately what the Bishop, who he supposed did the digging, had been doing to it the previous autumn, and the exact amount and nature of the fertilizers he had put in. She was suggesting he should come back with her that afternoon to Coops and stay there indefinitely, so profound and attractive did his knowledge seem of what her own garden and her farm needed in the way of a treatment he alluded to as cross-dressing, when he interrupted her--a thing that had never happened to her before while inviting somebody to Coops--to inquire why there were so very many people in the drawing-room and on the lawn. The Duchess stared. "It's a party," she said. "To celebrate the betrothal. Don't you know?" "I am gratified," said Herr Dremmel, "to find the parents so evidently pleased. It adds a grace to what was already full of charm. But would it not have been more complete if they had invited me?" "I quite agree with you," said the Duchess. "Much more complete. Well, anyhow, here you are. So you think my soil wants nitrogen?"