dly excels her in
naught save the length of nose, and has the manners of a boor."

"The Prince of Orange is the hope of the country," said Sir Philip
severely.

Peregrine's face wore a queer satirical look, which provoked Sir
Philip into saying, "Speak up, sir! what d'ye mean? We don't
understand French grins here."

"Nor does he, nor French courtesies either," said Peregrine.

"So much the better!" exclaimed the baronet.

Here the little clear voice broke in, "O Mr. Oakshott, if I had but
known you were coming, you might have brought me a French doll in
the latest fashion."

"I should have been most happy, madam," returned Peregrine; "but
unfortunately I am six months from Paris, and besides, his honour
might object lest a French doll should contaminate the Dutch
puppets."

"But oh, sir, is it true that French dolls have real hair that will
curl?"

"Don't be foolish," muttered Charles impatiently; and she drew up
her head and made an indescribably droll moue of disgust at him.

Supper ended, the party broke up into old and young, the two elder
gentlemen sadly discussing politics over their tall glasses of wine,
the matrons talking over the wedding and Lady Archfield's stay in
London at the parlour fire, and the young folk in a window, waiting
for the fiddler and a few more of the young people who were to join
them in the dance.

The Archfield ladies had kissed the hand of the Queen, and agreed
with Peregrine in admiration of her beauty and grace, though they
did not go so far as he did, especially when he declared that her
eyes were as soft as Mistress Anne's, and nearly of the same
exquisite brown, which made the damsel blush and experience a
revival of the old feeling of her childhood, as if he put her under
a spell.

He went on to say that he had had the good fortune to pick up and
restore to Queen Mary Beatrice a gold and coral rosary which she had
dropped on her way to St. James's Palace from Whitehall. She
thanked him graciously, letting him kiss her hand, and asking him if
he were of the true Church. "Imagine my father's feelings," he
added, "when she said, 'Ah! but you will be ere long; I give it you
as a pledge.'"

He produced the rosary, handing it first to Anne, who admired the
beautiful filigree work, but it was almost snatched from her by Mrs.
Archfield, who wound it twice on her tiny wrist, tried to get it
over her head, and did everything but ask for it, till her husband,
turning ro