ture, who stood on the
threshold, panting after his run.

"His name is Bayard."

"Ah, Miss Windsor, I perceive that you still recognize the glamour of a
lordly title in the matter of naming your pets. The Chevalier Bayard
smacks of royal prerogative."

"Pardon me; Bayard is named after an American statesman who was
contemporary with my great-grandfather. But isn't he a beauty? He cost
$1000. There is not another of his variety in the United States."

"I should like to go to America," said Lord Brompton, pensively, as he
entered the familiar library now renovated by the taste of Jawkins. "My
views have changed materially on many questions since we last met. I can
see that things here are likely to be in a chaotic state for a long
time to come, whereas your institutions have become permanent."

"But you ought to wish to remain and help your fellow-countrymen to
better things, Lord Brompton. Look at that line of ancestors," she
exclaimed. "You ought to do something worthy of them."

The ex-peer shook his head. "I have ambition, I think, thanks largely to
my friendship with you two summers ago; but the outlook is very gloomy.
England is in the hands of professional politicians. There is no chance
for gentlemen in political life."

"But the King may come to his own again," she murmured, in pity for his
mood. "Your title is unimpeached at his exiled court."

"I have doubts as to the desirability of a return to the old order of
things, even if there were hopes of success. It is useless to fight
against the spirit of the age. The King is old and fat."

"I saw the King riding in a herdic in Boston a few days before we
sailed," said Maggie. "He was stopping at the old Province House. Poor
sovereign, he looked destitute."

"He is very poor. What was saved from the wreck is in the hands of
Bugbee, the London banker. The court has since been moved to the South
End. But a monarchy is surely vastly preferable to our present
administration. President Bagshaw is a disgrace to any civilized
community, to say nothing of an ideal republic."

"There is the ancestor who looks like you," said she, pointing to the
portrait of a cavalier wearing hat and plume and long mustaches. "But is
there no hope from the opposition?" she inquired.

"I cannot yet bring myself to sympathize with the Liberals, although
their leader, Richard Lincoln, is a great and upright man. While the
King lives I can no more be disloyal to the House of Hanove