And that night I was seated on the throne of the S'helpburgs.

As I gazed at the Princess Flirtia, glowing in the characteristic beauty of the S'helpburgs, and admired her striking profile, I murmured softly and half audibly: "Her nose is as a tower that looketh toward Damascus." She looked puzzled, and knitted her pretty brows.

"Is that poetry ?" she asked.
"No" I said promptly.

"It's only part of a song of our great Ancestor." As she blushed slightly, I playfully flung around her fair neck the jeweled collar of the Order of the S'helpburgs--three golden spheres pendant, quartered from the arms of Lombardy---with the ancient Syric motto, El Ess Dee.
She toyed with it a moment, and then said softly: "You have changed, Rupert.

Do ye no ken hoo ?" I looked at her--as surprised at her dialect as at the imputation.
"You don't talk that way, as you did.