you talk of it's being unnatural, his dining out at
respectable tables. Why, I believe--upon my honour, I believe it's a
fact--he's supped and thrown dice with the Regent.'

Lady Jocelyn clapped her hands. 'A noble culmination, Drummond! The man's
an Epic!'

'Well, I think old Mel was equal to it,' Mr. George pursued. 'He gave me
pretty broad hints; and this is how it was, if it really happened, you
know. Old Mel had a friend; some say he was more. Well, that was a
fellow, a great gambler. I dare say you 've heard of him--Burley
Bennet--him that won Ryelands Park of one of the royal dukes--died worth
upwards of L100,000; and old Mel swore he ought to have had it, and would
if he hadn't somehow offended him. He left the money to Admiral
Harrington, and he was a relation of Mel's.'

'But are we then utterly mixed up with tailors?' exclaimed Mrs.
Barrington.

'Well, those are the facts,' said Mr. George.

The wine made the young squire talkative. It is my belief that his
suspicions were not awake at that moment, and that, like any other young
country squire, having got a subject he could talk on, he did not care to
discontinue it. The Countess was past the effort to attempt to stop him.
She had work enough to keep her smile in the right place.

Every dinner may be said to have its special topic, just as every age has
its marked reputation. They are put up twice or thrice, and have to
contend with minor lights, and to swallow them, and then they command the
tongues of men and flow uninterruptedly. So it was with the great Mel
upon this occasion. Curiosity was aroused about him. Aunt Bel agreed with
Lady Jocelyn that she would have liked to know the mighty tailor. Mrs.
Shorne but very imperceptibly protested against the notion, and from one
to another it ran. His Grace of Belfield expressed positive approval of
Mel as one of the old school.

'Si ce n'est pas le gentilhomme, au moins, c'est le gentilhomme manque,'
said Lady Jocelyn. 'He is to be regretted, Duke. You are right. The stuff
was in him, but the Fates were unkind. I stretch out my hand to the
pauvre diable.'

'I think one learns more from the mock magnifico than from anything
else,' observed his Grace.

'When the lion saw the donkey in his own royal skin, said Aunt Bel, 'add
the rhyme at your discretion--he was a wiser lion, that's all.'

'And the ape that strives to copy one--he's an animal of judgement,' said
Lady Jocelyn. 'We will be tolerant to the