"Not always," said Clovis consolingly; "he can go into the Navy
when he's thirteen." Rose-Marie wept afresh.

"Of course," added Clovis, "there may be no end of a bother about
his birth certificate. You'll have to explain matters to the
Admiralty, and they're dreadfully hidebound."

It was rather a relief when a breathless nursemaid from the Villa
Charlottenburg over the way came running across the lawn to claim
little Percy, who had slipped out of the front gate and
disappeared like a twinkling from the high road.

And even then Clovis found it necessary to go in person to the
kitchen to make sure about the asparagus sauce.




WRATISLAV



The Gräfin's two elder sons had made deplorable marriages. It
was, observed Clovis, a family habit. The youngest boy,
Wratislav, who was the black sheep of a rather greyish family, had
as yet made no marriage at all.

"There is certainly this much to be said for viciousness," said
the Gräfin, "it keeps boys out of mischief."