colour to the cheek and piquancy to the form. The dress was of
the latest cut. The hat had the longest plume. The cloak hung gracefully
save where the glistening sword broke its falling lines. The boots were
neat, well rounded and well cut, encasing a jaunty leg. The dress was
edged with silver.

Ah, the strange youth was a love, indeed, with his bright, sparkling
eyes, his lips radiant with smiles, his curls falling to his shoulders.

"Well," stammered Nell, in awkward hesitation but in the richest brogue,
as the Duchess repeated her inquiry, "I'm just I, madame."

The Duchess smiled despite herself.

"You're just you," she said. "That's very clear."

"Yes, that's very clear," reiterated Nell, still fearful of her ground.

"A modest masker, possibly," suggested Portsmouth, observing the youth's
embarrassment and wishing to assist him.

"Yea, very modest," replied Nell, her speech still stumbling, "almost
ashamed."

Portsmouth's eyes looked sharply at her.

"She suspects me," thought Nell, and her heart leaped into her throat.
"I am lost--boots and all."

"Your name?" demanded the Duchess again, impatiently.

For the life of her Nell could not think of it.

"You see," she replied evasively, "I'm in London for the first time in
my present self, madame, and--"

"Your name and mission, sir?" The tone was imperative.

Nell's wits returned to her.

"Beau Adair is my name," she stammered, "and your service my mission."

It was out, though it had like to have choked her, and Nell was more
herself again. The worst she had feared was that the Duchess might
discover her identity and so turn the tables and make her the
laughing-stock at court. She grew, indeed, quite hopeful as she observed
a kindly smile play upon the Duchess's lips and caught the observation:
"Beau Adair! A pretty name, and quite a pretty fellow."

A smile of self-satisfaction and a low bow were Nell's reply.

"Vain coxcomb!" cried Portsmouth, reprovingly, though she was highly
amused and even pleased with the strange youth's conceit.

"Nay; if I admire not myself," wistfully suggested Nell, in reply, with
pretence of much modesty, "who will praise poor me in this great
palace?"

"You are new at court?" asked Portsmouth, doubtingly.

"Quite new," asserted Nell, gaining confidence with each speech. "My
London tailor made a man of me only to-day."

"A man of you only to-day!" cried the Duchess, in wonderment.

"He assured me, madame,"