A wave of indignation swept the columns of the rank and file. They
didn't want the grand duke themselves, but they didn't want
Blakely's mother to have him; Blakely's mother and Mrs. Sanderson-
Spear, and Mrs. Tudor Carstairs. In a way, it was better than a
comic opera; it was fearfully amusing.

The grand duke, accompanied, according to the newspapers, "by the
Royal Suite and the Choicest Flower of San Francisco Society,"
arrived on a special train direct from Del Monte. Having captured a
grand duke, these "Choicest Flowers" (ten in number) were loath to
lose him, so they accompanied him. They did more; they paid for the
special train. Blakely's mother greeted them, one and all, in a most
friendly manner. There was an aristocratic air about the whole
proceeding that was distinctly uplifting.

And now began a round of gaieties, the first being a tea were real
Russian samovars were in evidence, and sandwiches of real Russian
caviar were served. Real Russian cigarettes were smoked, real
Russian vodka was sipped; the Czar's health was drunk; no bombs were
thrown, no bonds were offered for sale, the Russian loan was not
discussed; the Japanese servants were not present, having been given
a half holiday. Oh, it was a little triumph, that tea! Blakely's
mother was showered with congratulations. The "Choicest Flowers"
vied with one another in assurances of their distinguished approval.

Indeed, they were all crazy about it--except the grand duke. Blakely
said the grand duke was bored to death, and that he had led him off
to the bar and given him a whisky-and-soda out of sheer pity. From
that time on the duke stuck to him like a postage stamp, so that