He says she
looks like a clean old peasant."
"That is exactly what she is--bravo, Charley Masterson! A clean old
peasant. Joyselle, too, is a peasant. They come from near Falaise, and
as a girl Madame Joyselle wore a cap. Is there no tea going?"
Lady Kingsmead, who hated rows unless she was one of the principals,
rang the bell.
"How was Pam?" she asked hastily.
"As nice as ever. They both sent you their love, by the way. I had a
heavenly week there, and they liked Theo so much. He came down for the
week-end. Oh, mother," she went on as the man who had answered the bell
closed the door, "please ask them down soon, will you? The clean old
peasant won't come; she never leaves home, and _he_ is--perfectly
presentable."
Lady Kingsmead watched her daughter in amazement. Tommy, as usual, was
right; Brigit looked, and seemed, years younger than she had done a
fortnight ago.
"Yes, my dear, I'll write to-night," she said with the graciousness she
used at will, and that was so charming. Then she added, "I might ask him
when the Duchess comes. He is sure to love duchesses; _those_ kind of
people always do."
"Yes, and as to duchesses, _those_ kind of people frequently like good
music for nothing.
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