THE ATTITUDE OF THE GRAND DUKE The baron's bitterness was deepened by this accident to his charge; and he continued stubbornly to lay the blame of it on Pollyooly: if she had not actually flung him into the dyke, she had led him into the marsh, where the dyke was.

Then two mornings later there came a telegram to inform him that the Grand Duke of Lippe-Schweidnitz, on his way to answer the letter of appeal in person, was already in London, and would reach Pyechurch early in the afternoon.

The baron was a glad man.

All the morning, reclined in his deck-chair, with eyes full of a gloating triumph, he watched Pollyooly direct the play of the prince; and as he watched he hummed an aria, the same aria, of Mozart.

He foresaw a speedy end to this distressing social entanglement and her evil domination.
At lunch he informed his royal charge of the coming of his august sire, and told him that he must stay at home to welcome him.
"I go do blay wiz Bollyooly," said his young charge stolidly.
"You vill nod go," said the baron firmly.
His young charge said no more; he only looked at his beaming preceptor with eyes cold with the steeliest contempt.