istaken," said Bessie. "You don't understand."

"My dear child, don't be perverse," rejoined her sister.

"I know him better, certainly, if you mean that," said Bessie. "And I
like him very much. But I don't like him enough to make trouble for him
with his family. However, I don't believe in that."

"I like the way you say 'however,'" Mrs. Westgate exclaimed. "Come; you
would not marry him?"

"Oh, no," said the young girl.

Mrs. Westgate for a moment seemed vexed. "Why not, pray?" she demanded.

"Because I don't care to," said Bessie Alden.

The morning after Lord Lambeth had had, with Percy Beaumont, that
exchange of ideas which has just been narrated, the ladies at Jones's
Hotel received from his lordship a written invitation to pay their
projected visit to Branches Castle on the following Tuesday. "I think I
have made up a very pleasant party," the young nobleman said. "Several
people whom you know, and my mother and sisters, who have so long been
regrettably prevented from making your acquaintance." Bessie Alden lost
no time in calling her sister's attention to the injustice she had done
the Duchess of Bayswater, whose hostility was now proved to be a vain
illusion.

"Wait till you see if she comes," said Mrs. Westgate. "And if she is to
meet us at her son's house the obligation was all the greater for her to
call upon us."

Bessie had not to wait long, and it appeared that Lord Lambeth's mother
now accepted Mrs. Westgate's view of her duties. On the morrow, early in
the afternoon, two cards were brought to the apartment of the American
ladies--one of them bearing the name of the Duchess of Bayswater and
the other that of the Countess of Pimlico. Mrs. Westgate glanced at the
clock. "It is not yet four," she said; "they have come early; they wish
to see us. We will receive them." And she gave orders that her visitors
should be admitted. A few moments later they were introduced, and there
was a solemn exchange of amenities. The duchess was a large lady, with a
fine fresh color; the Countess of Pimlico was very pretty and elegant.

The duchess looked about her as she sat down--looked not especially at
Mrs. Westgate. "I daresay my son has told you that I have been wanting
to come and see you," she observed.

"You are very kind," said Mrs. Westgate, vaguely--her conscience not
allowing her to assent to this proposition--and, indeed, not permitting
her to enunciate her own with any appreciable emphasis.

"He