This was so obvious that Cocky did not notice it.
“Come, Pater, do give in; don’t get us in a row with the Prince; when he’s accepted these people to please us it would enrage him awfully if he learned you wouldn’t let ’em in. He’d ask you about it, of course, or have you asked by somebody.”
“And if he asks why I do let them in?”
“He won’t do that; he goes there.”
The duke was silent. He sighed. He could not mend the manners or the men of a time which was out of tune with him.
But Cocky’s argument had weight. He was of all things kind and chivalrous, and would have no more caused a scandal or a scene than he would have set fire to St. James’s Palace next door to him. He reflected on the matter; saw clearly how ugly it was, look at it how you would, and at last conceded permission to let the new people come on the condition, however, that they should not be introduced to himself. “I am too old,” he said, “to digest American cheese.”
His daughter-in-law, who did not care in the least for this stipulation, went gaily to luncheon at Harrenden House, and interested herself graciously about their costumes, which were a source of great anxiety to both of them.
“May I wear my diamonds?” asked Mrs. Massarene; her diamonds were a great resource and support to her in society.
“Oh, the more diamonds the better?” said Mouse. “Of course you’ll go as somebody’s grandmother, a Hyde perhaps? You need only telegraph to your people in Paris the epoch; they’ll know exactly what to send you; they know your age and appearance.”
Margaret Massarene was not pleased, and felt that persons of high rank could be most unpleasantly rude.