"I wonder," mused the Professor, "if anyone in the village--" The
little serving maid flittering among the gooseberry bushes--she was
pretending to be gathering goose-berries--caught the Professor's
eye.

"We will consult my chatelaine, Mrs. Muldoon," suggested the
Professor. "I think we shall be able to manage."

The Professor tendered Malvina his arm. With her other hand she
gathered up the skirts of the Commander's coat.

"I think," said the Professor with a sudden inspiration as they
passed through the garden, "I think I shall explain to Mrs. Muldoon
that you have just come straight from a fancy-dress ball."

They found Mrs. Muldoon in the kitchen. A less convincing story
than that by which the Professor sought to account to Mrs. Muldoon
for the how and the why of Malvina it would be impossible to
imagine. Mrs. Muldoon out of sheer kindness appears to have cut him
short.

"I'll not be asking ye any questions," said Mrs. Muldoon, "so
there'll be no need for ye to imperil your immortal soul. If ye'll
just give a thought to your own appearance and leave the colleen to
me and Drusilla, we'll make her maybe a bit dacent.

The reference to his own appearance disconcerted the Professor. He
had not anticipated, when hastening into his dressing gown and
slippers and not bothering about his socks, that he was on his way
to meet the chief lady-in-waiting of Queen Harbundia. Demanding