Mrs. Wetherby broke on in this, giving utterance to the thought in her mind. “Oh, my dear Gary, if you knew how much I long to see you with a son of your own to indulge!”

He smiled at her. “Do you, Trixie? Well, as it chances, it is that subject which has brought me to see you today.” He saw the look of startled consternation in her face, and burst out laughing. “No, no, I am not about to disclose to you the existence of a lusty love-child! Merely that I believe—or rather, that I hope—I may shortly be demanding your felicitations.”

She was for a moment incredulous, and then cried eagerly: “Oh, Gary, is it Alice Stockwell?”

“Alice Stockwell?” he repeated, surprised. “The pretty child you have been throwing in my way? My dear! No!”

“Told you so,” remarked Mr. Wetherby, with quiet satisfaction.

She could not help feeling a little disappointed, for Miss Stockwell had seemed to be of all her protégées the most eligible. She concealed this very creditably, however, and said: “I declare I have not the least guess, then, who it may be. Unless—oh, do, pray, tell me at once, Gary!”

“Why, yes!” he replied, amused at her eagerness. “I have asked Brancaster’s leave to address myself to Lady Hester.” The effect of this announcement was somewhat disconcerting. Warren, in the act of taking a pinch of snuff, was surprised into sniffing far too violently, and fell into a fit of sneezing; and his lady, after staring at her brother as though she could not believe her ears, burst into tears, exclaiming: “Oh, Gary, no!”

“Beatrix!” he said, between laughter and annoyance. “Gareth, are you hoaxing me? Tell me it’s a take-in! Yes, of course it is! you would never offer for Hester Theale!”

“But, Beatrix—!” he expostulated. “Why should you hold Lady Hester in such aversion?”

“Aversion! Oh, no! But a girl—girl? she must be nine-and-twenty if she’s a day!—a woman who has been on the shelf these nine years, and more, and never took,or had countenance,or the least degree of modishness—You must be out of your senses! You must know you have only to throw the handkerchief—Oh, dear, how could you do such a thing?”