"In the afternoon. In the morning I am engaged in giving lessons. But
come, we have lingered here long enough. _Miladi_ will expect me to
sing again."

Lady Essendine frowned at Cousin Bill when he brought back her singer;
but whether it was at the length of the talk, or the withdrawal of her
_protégée_ from the duties for which she was paid, her ladyship did
not condescend to explain. It was a little of both. She was pleased to
have hindered her son from paying marked attention to a person in
Madame Cyprienne's doubtful position. Now she found that person
exercising her fascinations upon Colonel Wilders, and it annoyed her,
although Cousin Bill was surely old enough to take care of himself.
Already she was changing her opinion concerning the fair singer she
had introduced into the London world. She could not fail to notice the
admiration Madame Cyprienne generally received, especially from the
men, and she doubted whether she had done wisely in taking her by the
hand.

A few days later she had no doubt at all. To her disgust, all the old
Spanish point-lace was gone; and Madame Cyprienne had told her plainly
that it was her own fault for haggling over the price. Her ladyship's
disgust was heightened when she found the best piece of all--a
magnificent white mantilla--in the possession of a rival leader of
fashion, who refused to say where she had got it, or how.

She set her emissaries at work, however--for every great London lady
has a dozen devoted, unpaid _attachés_, ready to do any little
commission of this kind--and the lace was traced back to Colonel
Wilders.