"And a woman to be prejudiced," said Gay smilingly.
"Faith, Kitty," laughed the duke, "our poet has thee there."
"I deny it. But we will discuss the question after we've seen the paragon. When shall she come?"
Gay for once was shrewd.
"Not until we've settled with the mother. She's a harpy. If she knows that your grace has anything to do with the affair she'll double her price."
"Why, our Gay is teaching us something," said the Duke banteringly. "He is giving us a lesson in financial economy. Duchess, you must keep your eye on the next post vacant in the Exchequer."
"Pish!" retorted her grace. "Mr. Gay is only exercising commonsense. We all of us have a little of that commodity. If we could only have it handy when it's wanted how much better the world would be."
Neither of the men disputed the lady's proposition, and the duchess rising, left them to their wine.
Armed with the twenty guineas, Gay presented himself the following day at the Bedfordbury coffee house. Mrs. Fenton was still ungracious, but the sight of the little pile of gold and the chink of the coins mollified her humour.
"Where and when are you going to take her?" she demanded.