ankle, and Margaret, who has the word "hoyden" still ringing in her
ears, and can see Lady Rylton's cold, aristocratic, disdainful face,
wishes the girl had had the biscuit in a basket.

"Oh, here is Miss Knollys!" cries Tita, running to her. "We are going
to feed the swans" (she looks back at her companion). "He has got
some more biscuits in his pockets."

"It's quite true," says Mr. Gower; "I'm nothing but biscuits. Every
pocket's full of 'em, and they've gone to dust. I tried to blow my
nose a moment ago, but I couldn't. One can't blow one's nose in
biscuit."

"Come with us, Miss Knollys--do," says Tita coaxingly.

"I can't. Not now. I can't," says Margaret, who is a little troubled
at heart. "Go, dear child, and feed the swans, and take care of her,
Randy--take care of her."

"I'll do my best," says Mr. Gower, with much solemnity; "but it's
small--very small. As a rule, Miss Bolton takes care of me."

Margaret gives him a last admonitory glance and turns away. In
truth, Mr. Gower is but a broken reed to lean upon.



CHAPTER III.

HOW LADY RYLTON SAYS A FEW THINGS THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER LEFT