all to the effect that she could not understand how he could be such
a fool. The Duke paid no attention whatever to her. His face
illumined with boyish glee, he lighted lamp after lamp.

Sonia watched him with a smiling admiration of the childlike
enthusiasm with which he performed the task. Even the stolid face of
the ox-eyed Irma relaxed into grins, which she smoothed quickly out
with a respectful hand.

The Duke had just lighted the twenty-second lamp when in bustled the
millionaire.

"What's this? What's this?" he cried, stopping short, blinking.

"Just some more of Jacques' foolery!" cried Germaine in tones of the
last exasperation.

"But, my dear Duke!--my dear Duke! The oil!--the oil!" cried the
millionaire, in a tone of bitter distress. "Do you think it's my
object in life to swell the Rockefeller millions? We never have more
than six lamps burning unless we are holding a reception."

"I think it looks so cheerful," said the Duke, looking round on his
handiwork with a beaming smile of satisfaction. "But where are the
cars? Jean seems a deuce of a time bringing them round. Does he
expect us to go to the garage through this rain? We'd better hurry
him up. Come on; you've got a good carrying voice."

He caught the millionaire by the arm, hurried him through the outer
hall, opened the big door of the chateau, and said: "Now shout!"