"Is it?" he asked, without interest. "She is very fat. Where are you?"
"And here," she proceeded, "is Lord Wychester."
"Mother," he demanded, "where are you?"
She was disconcerted; no promising evasion immediately occurred to her. "Maybe," she began, tentatively, "this lady here——"
"Oh, no!" he cried, looking up with a little laugh. "It is not like you, at all!"
"Well," she said, "it's probably meant for me."
He shook his head; and by the manner of this she knew that he would not be deceived.
"Perhaps," she said, "the Duchess told the man not to put me in the picture. I guess that's it. She was awful jealous. You see, dear," she went on, very solemnly, "Lord Wychester took a great fancy to me."
He looked up with interest.
"To—my shape," she added.