Sire," replied Don Lopez, "never before this day have I been satisfied
to be checkmated."

The King smiled, and the courtiers followed his example.

"Now, my lords," continued Philip, "we invite you all to our Royal
banquet. Let Don Gusman's seat be placed upon our right, and the Bishop
of Segovia's on our left. Give me your arm, Don Gusman."

[Illustration]

Illustrated Interviews

XXL--MR. AND MRS. KENDAL.

If one had waited for a few months, "The Kendals" would have been
getting settled in their new home in Portland Place. But, then, the
happiest associations are always centred around the old, and the
pleasantest and frequently the dearest recollections are gathered about
the familiar. That is why I went to them once more to their home of many
years at 145, Harley Street.

It would be difficult to realize a woman of more striking
characteristics than she who was for so many years known as "Madge"
Robertson, and notwithstanding a very important visit one morning in
August twenty-three years ago to St. Saviour's, Plymouth Grove,
Manchester, when she became the wife of Mr. William Hunter Grimston,
there are many who still know and speak of her by her happily-remembered
maiden name. From that day husband and wife have never played
apart--they have remained sweethearts on the stage and lovers in their
own home. At night--the footlights; by day--home and children. Mrs.
Kendal assured me that neither her eldest daughter, Margaret, nor Ethel,
nor Dorothy--the youngest--nor "Dorrie," who is now at Cambridge, nor
Harold, a "Marlborough" boy, would ever go on the stage. Home, husband,
and children--home, wife, and children, are the embodiment of the life
led by the Kendals.

[Illustration: THE DRAWING-ROOM

_From a Photo by Elliott & Fry_.]

Together with Mr. Kendal we sat down in the drawing-room, and were
joined for a moment by Miss Grimston, a quiet, unaffected young girl,
who looked as though she could never rid herself of a smile, either in
her eyes or about her mouth--a young maiden who suggested "sunshine."
She was carrying Victoria, a pet dog. The mother's whole thoughts seemed
to go out to her daughter.

"Our Jubilee dog," she cried. "I bought her on Jubilee Day, and,
curiously enough, Mr. Kendal bought one too, neither of us telling the
other we were going to make such canine purchases."

Then, when Miss Grimston had left the room, her mother turned to me
quietly, and said:--

"The image of m