"That are nice!" he cried.
"Aren't it, Sylvie?"
Sylvie, who hadn't quite lost her surprised look, put up her mouth for
a kiss. "Thank you very much," she said earnestly.
My Lady turned her head away to conceal the broad grin of triumph that
spread over her vast face, like a ripple on a lake. "Little simpletons!"
she muttered to herself, as she marched up to the house.
I followed her in.
"Quite so, your Excellency," the Baron was saying as we entered the
Library. "All the infantry were under my command." He turned, and was
duly presented to my Lady.
"A military hero?" said my Lady. The fat little man simpered.
"Well, yes," he replied, modestly casting down his eyes.
"My ancestors were all famous for military genius."
My Lady smiled graciously. "It often runs in families," she remarked:
"just as a love for pastry does."
The Baron looked slightly offended, and the Vice-Warden discreetly
changed the subject. "Dinner will soon be ready," he said. "May I have
the honour of conducting your Adiposity to the guest-chamber?"
"Certainly, certainly!" the Baron eagerly assented. "It would never do
to keep dinner waiting!" And he almost trotted out of the room after
the Vice-Warden.
He was back again so speedily that the Vice-warden had barely time to
explain to my Lady that her remark about "a love for pastry" was
"unfortunate. You might have seen, with half an eye," he added,
"that that's his line.
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