"Well, there was nothing in it, dear--in this case. And I wouldn't advise
you to give me to Lord Tatham--just yet!"

Mrs. Penfold sighed.

"Of course one knows that that kind of young man has his marriage made
for him--just like royalty. But sometimes--they break out. There _are_
dukes that have married plain Misses--no better than you, Lydia--and
not American either. But--Lydia--you _did_ like him?"

"Who? Lord Tatham? Certainly."

"I expect most girls do! He's the great _parti_ about here."

"Mother, _really_!" cried Lydia. "He's just a pleasant youth--not at all
clever. And oh, how badly he plays bridge!"

"That doesn't matter. Mrs. Deacon says you got on with him, splendidly."

"I chaffed him a good deal. He really plays worse than I do--if you can
believe it."

"They like being chaffed"--said Mrs. Penfold pensively--"if a girl does
it well."

"I don't care, darling, whether they like it or not. It amuses me, and so
I do it."

"But you mustn't let them think they're being laughed at. If you do that,