like demeanour of the
M.P.'s."

"I may see your father there."

"You may. But he'll be an exception to the lamb-like ones. Here, let me
put these valley lilies in your belt. They rather suit your costume."

"Oh, thank you; they're beautiful. If I see your father, I'll give him a
spray and say you sent it."

"Very well; he'll then pitch you and the flowers all in the Thames
together." "Well, at least we'll cause a sensation among the lambs.
Good-by, Kitty lady."

"Good-bye, little one. Have a good time, and come in to tell me about it
when you return."

The tea on the Terrace was a new delight. Patty had been through the
Houses of Parliament before, but this was her first experience of that
unique function known as the Terrace Tea.

The broad, beautiful space was crowded with tables, and the tables were
crowded with people. Merry, chatting, laughing Londoners, Americans, and
foreigners mingled in groups and drank tea together.

Mrs. Hastings and Patty were met by their host, Mr. Pauncefote, and
escorted to a table, already surrounded by several people.

Patty felt greatly pleased when she found herself seated between Grace
and Tom Meredith, and listened with interest as they designated various
celebrated people who were strolling by.

"But, after all," she said, at last, "Dukes and Duchesses don't look very
different from ordinary people."

"Of course they don't. Why should they? They aren't any different," said
Tom. "Indeed, Miss Fairfield, I've vanity enough to believe you'd find me
more interesting than some of the Dukes."

"I'm sure you are," laughed Patty, "but if I were introduced to a real
Duke, I'd be so scared I wouldn't know what to say."

"Now I call that too bad," declared Tom, with an aggrieved look. "And,
pray, why aren't you scared when in my august society?"

"I am," said Patty, dimpling, as she smiled at him, "only I'm
successfully striving not to show my quaking fright."

"That's better. I hope the longer you know me, the more awed you'll be of
my,--of my----"

"Of your what?" calmly inquired his sister.

"'Pon my word, I don't know," confessed Tom, good-naturedly; "of my
awesomeness, I suppose."

"How do you like London?" said a loud voice, in the tones that are
sometimes called stentorian, and Patty suddenly realised that her host
was addressing her.

A bit embarrassed at finding the eyes of all at the table upon her, she
answered, shyly: "I love it; it is so--so kind to me."