``If we could understand sparrow-language,'' said the Duke
serenely, ``I fancy we should hear something infinitely worse than
`strawberry-leafed nonentity.' ''
``But good Heavens, Eug
ne,'' said Belturbet hoarsely, ``what has
become of--- Why, there he is! How on earth did he get there?''
And he pointed with a shaking finger towards a semblance of the
vanished Minister, which approached once more along the unfrequented
path.
The Duke laughed.
``It is Quinston to all outward appearance,'' he said composedly,
``but I fancy you will find, on closer investigation, that it is an
angel under-study of the real article.''
The Angel-Quinston greeted them with a friendly smile.
``How beastly happy you two look sitting there!'' he said wistfully.
``I don't suppose you'd care to change places with poor little us,''
replied the Duke chaffingly.
``How about poor little me?'' said the Angel modestly. ``I've got to
run about behind the wheels of popularity, like a spotted dog behind
a carriage, getting all the dust and trying to look as if I was an
important part of the machine. I must seem a perfect fool to you
onlookers sometimes.
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