"But what kind of works?" asked Sir Gussie, the calculating and precise, as he screwed in a heavy-rimmed monocle, to stare at this re-maker of manners.
"Use your eyes, my boy, and decide for yourself," was the prompt answer. "Look at the every-day sights of London, and then carry comfort to those who need."
Barnett Moss was in his element. He was the born manager. He ruled that assembly--by gracious permission of June--as effectually as he would have dominated a Board meeting. He would carry this thing through.
The pencils attached to the programmes were busily inscribing the fine promise. The butler and footmen attending the table supplied cards to those without them, and themselves surreptitiously wrote down similar good intentions. June, gratified by this pleasant spirit of theirs, made them a little better-looking--rather a good form of reward.
Enchantment was potent everywhere in the large excited room.
"Is it down?" Barnett asked. His little eyes glittered with excitement, as they always glittered when he was governing a masterly transaction.
"It is," was after a while the general answer.
"Now how to keep it. May I ask the Duchess of Armingham to assist the fairies in this?"
The Duchess bowed assent. The company clapped hands delightedly. Her Grace seemed changed. Could that smiling presence be she who had for so long been their bugbear? Many of that company, had they not been caught by the glamour of the occasion, would have doubted their senses as to her identity. The Duke poised his glasses and pursed his lips, studying her. He hardly knew his own wife.
"Good!" commented Barnett Q., confirming her assent; "this is how the Quest you knights are to follow shall be kept. Once every month, by call or by letter, every person here who has made and signed this promise must report to the Duchess its fulfilment; and let no one"--his voice took on accents of tremendous seriousness--"let no one who, by breaking this exacting resolution, proves unworthy, presume to darken the doorsteps of Armingham House!"