ourite with Lady Glencora,--said that he was very much changed
indeed. Finding his Grace so much changed, Mr. Fothergill had made
a little attempt at dictation himself, but had receded with fingers
very much scorched in the attempt. It was indeed possible that the
Duke was becoming in the slightest degree weary of Lady Glencora's
thraldom, and that he thought that Madame Max Goesler might be more
tender with him. Madame Max Goesler, however, intended to be tender
only on one condition.

When Lady Glencora entered the room, Madame Goesler received her
beautifully. "How lucky that you should have come just when his Grace
is here!" she said.

"I saw my uncle's carriage, and of course I knew it," said Lady
Glencora.

"Then the favour is to him," said Madame Goesler, smiling.

"No, indeed; I was coming. If my word is to be doubted in that point,
I must insist on having the servant up; I must, certainly. I told
him to drive to this door, as far back as Grosvenor Street. Did I
not, Planty?" Planty was the little Lord Silverbridge as was to
be, if nothing unfortunate intervened, who was now sitting on his
granduncle's knee.

"Dou said to the little house in Park Lane," said the boy.

"Yes,--because I forgot the number."

"And it is the smallest house in Park Lane, so the evidence is
complete," said Madame Goesler. Lady Glencora had not cared much for
evidence to convince Madame Goesler, but she had not wished her uncle
to think that he was watched and hunted down. It might be necessary
that he should know that he was watched, but things had not come to
that as yet.

"How is Plantagenet?" asked the Duke.

"Answer for papa," said Lady Glencora to her child.

"Papa is very well, but he almost never comes home."

"He is working for his country," said the Duke. "Your papa is a busy,
useful man, and can't afford time to play with a little boy as I
can."

"But papa is not a duke."

"He will be some day, and that probably before long, my boy. He will
be a duke quite as soon as he wants to be a duke. He likes the House
of Commons better than the strawberry leaves, I fancy. There is not a
man in England less in a hurry than he is."

"No, indeed," said Lady Glencora.

"How nice that is," said Madame Goesler.

"And I ain't in a hurry either,--am I, mamma?" said the little future
Lord Silverbridge.

"You are a wicked little monkey," said his grand-uncle, kissing him.
At this moment Lady Glencora was, no doubt, thinki