'It must have been--uncommonly diverting!' the Reverend Frederick
stammered; and he smiled widely, but with a lack of heart. This time
there could be no doubt of the pinkness that overspread his face.

'Diverting? I tell you it would have made old Dartmouth laugh!' Sir
George said, bluntly.

'Ha, ha! Perhaps it would. Perhaps it would. Not that I have the honour
of his lordship's acquaintance.'

'No? Well, he would not suit you, Tommy. I would not seek it.'

The Reverend Frederick looked doubtful, as weighing the possibility of
anything that bore the name of lord being alien from him. From this
reflection, however, he was roused by a new sally on Soane's part. 'But,
crib me! you are very fine to-night, Mr. Thomasson,' he said, staring
about him afresh. 'Ten o'clock, and you are lighted as for a drum! What
is afoot?'

The tutor smirked and rubbed his hands. 'Well, I--I was expecting a
visitor, Sir George.'

'Ah, you dog! She is not here, but you are expecting her.'

Mr. Thomasson grinned; the jest flattered him. Nevertheless he hastened
to exonerate himself. 'It is not Venus I am expecting, but Mars,' he
said with a simper. 'The Honourable Mr. Dunborough, son to my Lord
Dunborough, and the same whose meritorious services at the Havanna you,
my dear friend, doubtless remember. He is now cultivating in peace the