Lady Locke, the boys say they like my anthem.
Jimmy thinks it is beautiful. Isn't he a dear boy?"

"Does _he_ include himself among those whom he deceives?" she
thought, as they walked towards the house.

The two tall footmen, more rigidly supercilious in their powdered hair
than ever, were already arranging the ecstatic and amazed little choir
boys in their seats. Tables had been placed in horse-shoe fashion, and
in the centre of the horse-shoe Mrs. Windsor took her seat, with Mr.
Smith, who had just arrived, Madame Valtesi, and Lady Locke. Lord Reggie
and Esme Amarinth sat among the boys at the ends of the two sides of the
horse-shoe. Tommy was on Lord Reggie's right hand. The tall footmen
moved noiselessly about handing the various dishes, but at first a
difficulty presented itself. Jimmy Sands was far too nervous to accept
any food from the gorgeous flunkeys. He started violently and blushed
most prettily whenever they came near him. But he shook his head shyly
at the dishes, and as all the other boys followed his lead, the supper
at first threatened to be a failure. It was not until Mr. Smith went
round personally putting chicken and foie gras and other delights upon
their plates, that they found courage to fall to, and then they were
much too shy to talk. With their heads held well over their food they
gobbled mutely, occasionally shooting side glances at one another and
at their entertainers, and watching furtively with a view of discovering
whether they were doing the right thing.

Mrs. Windsor found them most refreshing.

"How sweet innocence is!" she languidly ejaculated, as she saw little
Tim Wright, a fair baby of eight, drop a large truffle head downwards
into his lap. "We Londoners pay for our pleasures, Mr. Smith, I can
assure you. We lose our freshness. We are not like happy choir-boys."

That Mrs. Windsor was quite unlike a happy choir boy was fairly obvious.
Her fringed yellow hair, her tired, got-up eyes, her powdered cheeks,
betrayed her _mondaine_. She was indeed an acute and bizarre
contrast to the troop of shyly enchanted children by whom she was
surrounded. But Mr. Amarinth looked even more out of place than she did,
although he was, as always, tremendously at his ease. His large and
sleek body towered up at the end of the long table. His carefully
crimped head was smilingly bowed to catch the whispered confidences of
Jimmy Sands, and the green carnation, staring from the lapel of his
evenin