"And you, little you, are the mistress of all this great house! You are to give receptions, and be the chief hostess. I suppose you will chaperon me, you chicken! Isn't it a joke?"
"It do seem joky," admitted Yuki, with another sigh of full content.
"Well, Madame la Princesse, may I give you now my first social commission? I want a prince of my own,—a Japanese prince. Let him be poor,—all the better,—but his trademark, I mean his crest, I insist on having it warranted as the real thing."
"What would then become of poor Mr. Dodge?"
"Mr. Dodge!" echoed the other, with greatest scorn. "You certainly never had any idea I would look twice at Mr. Dodge! Besides, he is making a fool of himself over that fat, ogling Carmen Niestra. Ugh! She reminds me of a huge suet pudding with sweet sauce. I always suspected Dodge of low sentiments."
"I know not of this Miss Carmen," said Yuki, in a troubled voice. "But I like Mr. Dodge, always, very, very much; and I am sure he loved you—distractionately!"
"That just about expresses it!" cried Gwendolen; and little Yuki never knew why her friend laughed so heartily, while the dark shadow of an unspoken pain still clouded her bright eyes. "Let's change the subject," the American said quickly. "Dad told me to give you lots of love, and to say that all of us were looking forward to that grand first reception of yours. Next Thursday, isn't it? No, Friday. We got our cards yesterday."
"You will come and assist me in the preparing, won't you, dear Gwendolen?"
"I couldn't be kept away!"
"And Mrs. Todd, too. Your kind mother, will she not come?"