"Putney slogger—bantam weight—fighting man, you know."
Mrs. Pajmter drew herself up still more.
"My father was rector of Bodgington, in Essex. He married a Miss Abbeyfield, my dear mother, and she was a grand-niece of the late Lord Gawler. My father was related, on his mother's side, to Admiral Piper—'Percussion' Piper he was called, as of course you know, because he was so explosive; and on his father's side, as I have often heard him say"
The lady was well launched. "His Grace," however, remorselessly cut her short "Oh!" he said He turned to the young lady. "Miss—Miss Paynter?"
"I certainly am my mother*s daughter."
Mrs. Paynter did not seem to be at all offended at having been recently interrupted. She came sailing gaily in.
"Edith—always Edith to her friends."
"Awfully jolly name, Edit ; awfully jolly."
Edith drew herself a little closer into her corner.
"It is very good of you to say so."
If Miss Paynter's manner, all at once, was a little glacial, Mrs. Paynter's continued to be beautifully beaming.
"I cannot tell you how delighted I am at so unexpectedly encountering your Grace, and under such agreeable circumstances. It is such an honour, and such a pleasure. And you are going to Boulogne? Does your Grace purpose staying long at Boulogne?"
"Don't know. Awful bore, the whole thing. Fact is, I'm going to keep an eye on the old woman."
His Grace winked—distinctly; but the lady was puzzled
