Both the lady and the young man were mightily pleased, one by being able to offer and the other to accept the slaughter of aristocratic birds. Sir Evas listened with an amused smile and Toney exclaimed,
"I wish one could decide if it is right to kill birds and fishes. St. Francis wouldn't have shot a pheasant I'm sure, though there's nothing about pheasants in my new book; but St. Anthony really preached to the fishes at Rimini because the heretics wouldn't listen to him."
"Salmon?" inquired Sir Evas.
"All sizes and kinds, and they held up their heads above the water and stood to attention, all according to their height, and then he preached an awfully jolly little sermon, and reminded them how nice it was to have fins and to be able to go where they liked."
"It's only a legend, dear," said Mrs. Faber, smiling.
"And how did they take it?" asked Sir Evas, hoping the new secretary was not listening.
"They opened their mouths and bowed their heads and St. Anthony was awfully pleased, and said the fishes were better than the heretics."
"They made less noise evidently. I hope the heretics were impressed."
"Yes, they were, and were converted by it."
Plantagenet Russell at this moment behaved like the fishes, for he opened his mouth as if to remonstrate with Toney but thought better of it. His heart sank within him. This heiress' brain was evidently deranged, and however on earth should he deal with her? Thank heaven he had Lady Dove to fall back upon. She was the real thing. Sir Evas quickly changed the conversation.