"I am content to be called silly." He tried to take her hand.
"Well, don't be it in public. You will rank with Lord Tippleton who married Bessie Bilhook, and made a Lady of her—the only ladyhood she's ever known."
"No, I can't rank with him," he smiled back. "I'm only a Baronet."
"It sounds the same. Lady Maper!" she murmured. "But, oh, how funny! There'd be two Lady Mapers."
"My mother would be the Dowager Lady—"
"That's funnier still."
He ate in silence. Eileen mused on the picture of the Dowager, her forefinger to heaven.
"The Royalty—how did that go off?" she said, as he carved the chicken.
"With fireworks. For the reception father built a new house and furnished it with old furniture. Royalty stopped an hour and a quarter. Oh, she was wonderful. I mean my mother. Copied your phrases—see what an impression you made."
"And what have you been doing since you came into the title?"