od and hobbled up behind the
truce-bearer, who had now paused to lift his shoulders into a position
of dignity and defiance. Shaw's heart was touched. The spectacle was
enough to melt the prejudice of any adversary. Lord Cecil's knees
trembled; his hand shook as if in a chill. Mud-covered, water-soaked,
and bruised, their clothes rent in many places, their hats gone and
their hair matted, their legs wobbly, the trio certainly inspired
pity, not mirth nor scorn.

"One moment, sir," called his lordship, with a feeble attempt at
severity. His voice was hoarse and shaky. "We do not come as friends,
dem you. Is my sister here?"

"She is, Lord Bazelhurst. We'll talk this over later on," said Shaw in
his friendliest way. "You are worn out and done up, I'm sure--you and
your friends. Come! I'm not as bad as you think. I've changed my
mind since I saw you last. Let's see if we can't come to an amicable
understanding. Miss Drake is waiting up there. Breakfast soon will be
ready--hot coffee and all that. Permit me, gentlemen, to invite you to
partake of what we have. What say you?"

"Confound you, sir, I--I--" but his brave effort failed him. He
staggered and would have fallen had not the duke caught him from
behind.

"Thanks, old chap," said Barminster to Shaw. "We will come in for a
moment. I say, perhaps you could give us a dry dud or two. Bazelhurst
is in a bad way and so is the count. It was a devil of a storm."

"_Mon Dieu! c'etait epouvantable_!" groaned the count.

Penelope came down from the porch to meet them. Without a word she
took her brother's arm. He stared at her with growing resentment.

"Dem it all, Pen," he chattered, "you're not at all wet, are you? Look
at me! All on your account, too."

"Dear old Cecil! All on Evelyn's account, you mean," she said softly,
wistfully.

"I shall have an understanding with her when we get home," he said
earnestly. "She sha'n't treat my sister like this again."

"No," said Shaw from the other side; "she sha'n't."

"By Jove, Shaw, are you _with_ me?" demanded his lordship in surprise.

"Depends on whether you are with me," said the other. Penelope flushed
warmly.

Later on, three chastened but ludicrous objects shuffled into the
breakfast-room, where Shaw and Penelope awaited them. In passing, it
is only necessary to say that Randolph Shaw's clothes did not fit the
gentlemen to whom they were loaned. Bazelhurst was utterly lost in
the folds of a gray tweed, while t