Mrs. Osbourne sitting bolt upright on the sofa, knees together, toes in, squeaked like a mouse.
"What—a duel, oh!"
"Yes," said Miss Temple. "Prince Ali is to fight the Queen's Champion." Then she bit her lips in great vexation, for to a mere civilian she had betrayed a secret of the Guard.
"That's all right," Lord Sydney laughed heartily. "We had the duel this morning. I was Dymoke's second, and young Browne for Trooper Ali. We seconds arranged the detail—swords at ten paces."
"But," said Miss Temple, primly, "swords won't reach!"
"No," Sydney shook his head, "they won't. You should have heard our warriors cursing! I'm afraid my revered father has graver business than that to worry our Lady."
"Oh," chirped Mrs. Osbourne, "and my Jack said there was a dreadful rumour on the Stock Exchange. They say that monster at Lyonesse is behaving disgracefully. Yes, he has made horrible threats about the thingum-jig, the what d'ye call 'em."
"The price of gold?" Sydney was exchanging glances with Miss Temple.
"That's it," said the governess; "that must be it. You know how strongly I disapprove of profane books. This morning my poor child was fretting herself to death about Mayne's 'Gold and Lyonesse.' I took it away from her. What a shameful thing that Margaret should be crying over a book like that! Why should a godless man like Mr. Brand be clothed with such frightful power? Let him put his mouth in the dust. Now why are such things permitted?"
"Miss Temple," said Sydney, "can you remember back to the Black Decade? But no, you must have been a mere child then."