"Who did you like best, Richard Plantagenet?" Mhor asked as they came down the steps.
"Well, I think, perhaps the most worthy character was 'the old religious man' who converted so opportunely the Duke Frederick."
"Yes," Jean laughed. "I like that way of getting rid of an objectionable character and enriching a deserving one. But Jaques went off to throw in his lot with the converted Duke. I rather grudged that."
"To-morrow," said Mhor, who was skipping along, very wide awake and happy in After-ten-o'clock Land—"to-morrow I'm going to take Peter to the river and let him snowk after water-rats. I think he's feeling lonely—a Scots dog among so many English people."
"Stark's lonely too," said Jock. "He says the other chauffeurs have an awful queer accent and it's all he can do to understand them."
"Oh, poor Stark!" said Jean. "I don't suppose he would care much to see the plays."
"He told me," Jock went on, "that one of the other chauffeurs had asked him to go with him to a concert called Macbeth. When I told him what it was he said he'd had an escape. He says he sees enough of Shakespeare in this place without going to hear him. He's at the Pictures to-night, and there's a circus coming—"
"And oh, Jean," cried Mhor, "it's the very one that came to
Priorsford!"
"Take a start, Mhor," said Jock, "and I'll race you back."
Lord Bidborough and Jean walked on in silence.