"Immortal Caesar, dead and turned to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away;
The Duke's ancestral records well may share
The curly splendours of the housemaid's hair."
As he improvised she turned impatiently to the flower bed.
"Miss Terrill!" he called, and when she looked up with a resigned air, he said—
"Cannot we be friends?"
Her glance was withering.
"Don't sniff," he entreated earnestly, "don't despise me because I'm a duke. Whatever I am, I am a gentleman."
"You're a most pertinacious and impertinent person," said the exasperated girl.
"Alliteration's artful aid," quoth the Duke admiringly. "Listen——"
He was standing on the top step of the ladder balancing himself rather cleverly, for Hank was away shopping.
"Miss Terrill," he began. There was no mistaking the earnestness of his voice, and the girl listened in spite of herself.