rth while. Prince Maiyo may take home with him
many Western treasures, but I do not think that he will take home a
wife."

"If you say another word to me, aunt," Penelope exclaimed, "I shall
shriek!"

The Duchess, being a woman of tact, laughed the subject away and
pretended not to notice Penelope's real distress. But when they
had reached Devenham House, she went to the telephone and called up
Somerfield.

"Charlie," she said,--

"Right o'!" he interrupted. "Who is it?"

"Be careful what you are saying," she continued, "because it isn't any
one who wants you to take them out to supper."

"I only wish you did," he answered. "It's the Duchess, isn't it?"

"The worst of having a distinctive voice," she sighed. "Listen. I want
to speak to you."

"I am listening hard," Somerfield answered. "Hold the instrument a
little further away from you,--that's better."

"We have been to the Prince's for tea this afternoon--Penelope and I,"
she said.

"I know," he assented. "I was asked, but I didn't see the fun of it. It
puts my back up to see Penelope monopolized by that fellow," he added
gloomily.

"Well, listen to what I have to say," the Duchess went on. "Something
happened there--I don't know what--to upset Penelope very much. She
never spoke a word coming home, and she has gone straight up to her room
and locked herself in. Somehow or other the Prince managed to offend
her. I am sure of that, Charlie!"

"I'm beastly sorry," Somerfield answered. "I meant to say that I was
jolly glad to hear it."

The Duchess coughed.

"I didn't quite hear what you said before," she said severely. "Perhaps
it is just as well. I rang up to say that you had better come round
and dine with us tonight. You will probably find Penelope in a more
reasonable frame of mind."

"Awfully good of you," Somerfield declared heartily. "I'll come with
pleasure."

Dinner at Devenham House that evening was certainly a domestic meal.
Even the Duke was away, attending a political gathering. Penelope was
pale, but otherwise entirely her accustomed self. She talked even
more than usual, and though she spoke of a headache, she declined all
remedies. To Somerfield's surprise, she made not the slightest objection
when he followed her into the library after dinner.

"Penelope," he said, "something has gone wrong. Won't you tell me what
it is? You look worried."

She returned his anxious gaze, dry-eyed but speechless.

"Has that fellow, Prince M