"Only one of my fancies," he explained, smiling. "I always make
provision for the unexpected guest. Who knows what supperless
angels may be hovering around?"

We were hardly at the soup before a servant brought in a card.

"Roger W. Blake," read Indiman, aloud. "An honest-enough-sounding
name. Is the gentleman in evening dress, Bolder?"

"No, sir; I don't think so, sir."

"Hym! That is unfortunate. Still, if Madame la Duchesse will
permit, and you, Thorp, have no objection--Good! Ask Mr. Blake to
do me the favor of joining us at dinner."

A few minutes later Mr. Roger Blake appeared at the door of the
dining-room. He was a young man with a profusion of fair hair and a
good deal of color, the latter heightened considerably by the
somewhat embarrassing circumstances attending his introduction. But
Indiman relieved the situation immediately, going forward and
greeting the new guest with unaffected cordiality.

"Mr. Blake, is it? You are very heartily welcome, I assure you. Let
Bolder take your hat and stick; indeed, I insist upon it. Allow me
now to present you: Her Grace the Duchess of Lackshire, more
generally known as Lely's 'Red Duchess'--Mr. Roger W. Blake. My
friend, Mr. Thorp--Mr. Blake."

Evidently the young man was not overclear in his own mind as to how
it had all happened, but there he was, sitting bolt upright in the