Who was that throwing the reins to his groom and jumping out of his chariot? A familiar face. Of course, it was H.R.H. the Duke of Schaum, so well known to every shoe-black. He had been the very first Royal Prince to apply to the Committee of Social Guides and was now the mentor of Mrs Webster. It was only natural that the eldest of the Princes should make the first move, for rulers still they were, if only in name and amongst themselves. The other members of the august family had rushed zealously into the arena, and they were all enjoying the work. Here was Montagu Vane walking up the steps and entering through the swing doors at the same time as H.R.H. the Duke of Schaum who occasionally, when Mrs Webster gave him time to breathe, instructed the _dilettante_ in the art of knowing who was who. Vane had not yet adopted a chariot; when he was not going far from home he walked, on other occasions he would ask his friend Mowbray to give him a lift; for Lord Mowbray had greatly improved in the handling of the ribbons. He had lately attached to his service a young member of the Royal Family, for he could endure no one lower than a scion of royalty as his constant companion through life! Lord Petersham, his hand on old Watson’s shoulder, was slowly mounting the steps. Watson had lost his insular swagger, while his lordly companion was daily forgetting his love of party politics as he learnt more of humanity. Since they were no more beholden to each other for liberal cheques, and introductions into Society, the two men understood each other better. On their heels rushed Tom Hornsby; he was here, there and everywhere, witty Tom; raillery was still his weapon, but he appeared very old-fashioned to his contemporaries, whilst his satirical outbursts seemed now more antiquated than the _Tatler_ or _Spectator_ of Georgian civilisation. There, with his nonchalant demeanour, came along George Murray, who had, a few days previously, begged his publishers to destroy his last MS., as he wished to observe the turn of events before bringing out his next novel. The hall was full, but not over-crowded. The Parliamentarians and many of the members in the Upper House still kept away in the country, where, unconsciously, they did some good work in the resuscitation of rural life. It was remarkable what the so-called leading classes could do now that the greatest incentive to snobbery had been torn from their backs. But Danford had always prophesied as much to his pupil.