'Some of his own too, if you please!' said Lady Helen smiling. 'Yes, I suppose he is waiting for the division, or he would be here.'
'I wonder why Providence blessed me with such a Radical crew of relations?' remarked the Duke. 'Hugh is a regular Communist. I never heard such arguments in my life. And as for any idea of standing by his order——' The old man shook his bald head and shrugged his small shoulders with almost French vivacity. He had been handsome once, and delicately featured, but now the left eye drooped, and the face had a strong look of peevishness and ill-health.
'Uncle,' interposed Lady Helen, 'let me introduce you to my two great friends, Miss Leyburn, Miss Rose Leyburn.'
The Duke bowed, looked at them through a pair of sharp eyes, seemed to cogitate inwardly whether such a name had ever been known to him, and turned to his nephew.
'Get me out of this, Hugh, and I shall be obliged to you. Young people may risk it, but if I broke I shouldn't mend.'
And still grumbling audibly about the floor, he hobbled off towards the picture gallery. Mr. Flaxman had only time for a smiling backward glance at Rose.
'Have you given my pretty boy a dance?'
'Yes,' she said, but with as much stiffness as she might have shown to his uncle.
'That's over,' said Lady Helen with relief. 'My uncle hardly meets any of us now without a spar. He has never forgiven my father for going over to the Liberals. And then he thinks we none of us consult him enough. No more we do—except Aunt Charlotte. She's afraid of him!'
'Lady Charlotte afraid!' echoed Rose.