resent combination
are. Where would Lady Henry find another lady of Mademoiselle Le
Breton's sort to help her with her house and her salon? For the last two
years the Wednesday evenings have been the most brilliant and successful
things of their kind in London. And, of course, for Mademoiselle Le
Breton it is a great thing to have the protection of Lady
Henry's name--"

"A great thing?" cried Sir Wilfrid. "Everything, my dear Jacob!"

"I don't know," said Delafield, slowly. "It may be bought too dear."

Sir Wilfrid looked at the speaker with curiosity. It had been at all
times possible to rouse Jacob Delafield--as child, as school-boy, as
undergraduate--from an habitual carelessness and idleness by an act or a
tale of injustice or oppression. Had the Duchess pressed him into her
service, and was he merely taking sides for the weaker out of a natural
bent towards that way of looking at things? Or--

"Well, certainly we must do our best to patch it up," said Sir Wilfrid,
after a pause. "Perhaps Mademoiselle Le Breton will allow me a word with
her by-and-by. I think I have still some influence with Lady Henry. But,
dear goddaughter"--he bent forward and laid his hand on that of the
Duchess--"don't let the maid do the commissions."

"But I must!" cried the Duchess. "Just think, there is my big bazaar on
the 16th. You don't know how clever Julie is at such things. I want to
make her recite--her French is too beautiful! And then she has such
inventiveness, such a head! Everything goes if she takes it in hand. But
if I say anything to Aunt Flora, she'll put a spoke in all our wheels.
She'll hate the thought of anything in which Julie is successful and
conspicuous. Of course she will!"

"All the same, Evelyn," said Delafield, uncomfortable apparently for the
second time, "I really think it would be best to let Lady Henry know."

"Well, then, we may as well give it up," said the Duchess, pettishly,
turning aside.

Delafield, who was still pacing the carpet, suddenly raised his hand in
a gesture of warning. Mademoiselle Le Breton was crossing the outer
drawing-room.

"Julie, come here!" cried the Duchess, springing up and running towards
her. "Jacob is making himself so disagreeable. He thinks we ought to
tell Lady Henry about the 16th."

The speaker put her arm through Julie Le Breton's, looking up at her
with a frowning brow. The contrast between her restless prettiness, the
profusion of her dress and hair, and Juli