“No, he is entering on his third year,” the Duke replied.

“But not, I fancy, at our college, my lord?” Mr. Romsey said playfully.

As Mr. Romsey was a Balliol scholar, and the Duke had been at Christ Church, the possessive pronoun could only be taken to refer to the circumstance of his having accompanied his pupil to Oxford to keep a watchful eye on his health and his associates. The Duke, who had suffered as only a sensitive youth could under such an arrangement, found the reminder so irritating that he was obliged to close his lips on an unkind retort.

“My nephew is at Magdalen College,” said Lord Lionel shortly. “As for not having seen my brother and his wife here, they spent six weeks with us in the summer, and brought all the children, as I for one am not likely to forget very readily! They cut up the south lawn with their cricket, and if they had been sons of mine—”

“But they asked my permission, sir, and I gave it,” Gilly said, in a soft voice.

Lord Lionel opened his mouth to utter a blistering reproof, recollected himself, shut it again, and, after a slight pause, said: “Well, it is your lawn, and you may do as you wish with it, but I own I cannot conceive what you were about to give permission!”

A rather mischievous smile lit the Duke’s eyes: he looked under his lashes at his uncle, and replied: “I think it was perhaps because I have wanted very often to play cricket there myself.”

“Yes! and you would thank me for it today, I daresay, had I allowed you and Gideon to ruin one of the finest pieces of turf in the country!” said his lordship.

Miss Scamblesby having by this time disposed of her portion of the Gateau Mellifleur, Lady Lionel heaved herself up out of her chair. The Duke picked up such small articles as she dropped, the doors were held open, and both ladies withdrew to leave the gentlemen to their wine.