"The first detachment is due to arrive at three," said Lady Bailquist, referring to a small time-table of the afternoon's proceedings; "three, punctually, and the others will follow in rapid succession. The Emperor and Suite will arrive at two-fifty and take up their positions at the saluting base--over there, where the big flag-staff has been set up. The boys will come in by Hyde Park Corner, the Marble Arch, and the Albert Gate, according to their districts, and form in one big column over there, where the little flags are pegged out. Then the young Prince will inspect them and lead them past His Majesty." "Who will be with the Imperial party?" asked Sir Leonard. "Oh, it is to be an important affair; everything will be done to emphasise the significance of the occasion," said Lady Bailquist, again consulting her programme. "The King of Wurtemberg, and two of the Bavarian royal Princes, an Abyssinian Envoy who is over here--he will lend a touch of picturesque barbarism to the scene--the general commanding the London district and a whole lot of other military bigwigs, and the Austrian, Italian and Roumanian military attaches." She reeled off the imposing list of notables with an air of quiet satisfaction. Sir Leonard made mental notes of personages to whom he might send presentation copies of his new work "Frederick-William, the Great Elector, a Popular Biography," as a souvenir of to-day's auspicious event. "It is nearly a quarter to three now," he said; "let us get a good position before the crowd gets thicker." "Come along to my car, it is just opposite to the saluting base," said her ladyship; "I have a police pass that will let us through. We'll ask Mrs. Yeovil and her young friend to join us." Larry excused himself from joining the party; he had a barbarian's reluctance to assisting at an Imperial triumph. "I think I'll push off to the swimming-bath," he said to Cicely; "see you again about tea-time." Cicely walked with Lady Bailquist and the literary baronet towards the crowd of spectators, which was steadily growing in dimensions. A newsboy ran in front of them displaying a poster with the intelligence "Essex wickets fall rapidly"--a semblance of county cricket still survived under the new order of things. Near the saluting base some thirty or forty motorcars were drawn up in line, and Cicely and her companions exchanged greetings with many of the occupants. "A lovely day for the review, isn't it?" cried the Grafin von Tolb, breaking off her conversation with Herr Rebinok, the little Pomeranian banker, who was sitting by her side. "Why haven't you brought young Mr. Meadowfield? Such a nice boy. I wanted him to come and sit in my carriage and talk to me." "He doesn't talk you know," said Cicely; "he's only brilliant to look at." "Well, I could have looked at him," said the Grafin. "There'll be thousands of other boys to look at presently," said Cicely, laughing at the old woman's frankness.