"No, no!" said Sir Wilfrid, stopping short and holding up a deprecating hand. "Too bad! Go on."
"Oh, we were only fooling with baby!" said the Duchess. "It is high time she went to her nurse. Sit here, Sir Wilfrid. Julie, will you take the babe, or shall I ring for Mrs. Robson?"
"I'll take her," said Mademoiselle Le Breton.
She knelt down by the child, who rose with alacrity. Catching her skirts round her, with one eye half laughing, half timorous, turned over her shoulder towards the dog, the baby made a wild spring into Mademoiselle Julie's arms, tucking up her feet instantly, with a shriek of delight, out of the dog's way. Then she nestled her fair head down upon her bearer's shoulder, and, throbbing with joy and mischief, was carried away.
Sir Wilfrid, hat in hand, stood for a moment watching the pair. A bygone marriage uniting the Lackington family with that of the Duchess had just occurred to him in some bewilderment. He sat down beside his hostess, while she made him some tea. But no sooner had the door of the farther drawing-room closed behind Mademoiselle Le Breton, than with a dart of all her lively person she pounced upon him.
"Well, so Aunt Flora has been complaining to you?"
Sir Wilfrid's cup remained suspended in his hand. He glanced first at the speaker and then at Jacob Delafield.
"Oh, Jacob knows all about it!" said the Duchess, eagerly. "This is Julie's headquarters; we are on her staff. You come from the enemy!"
Sir Wilfrid took out his white silk handkerchief and waved it.
"Here is my flag of truce," he said. "Treat me well."