"
"Jack Chumly, don't bully the boy!" said a voice near by; and
looking thitherward, Barnabas beheld the Duchess seated at a small
table beneath a shady tree, and further screened by a tall hedge; a
secluded corner, far removed from the throng, albeit a most
excellent place for purposes of observation, commanding as it did a
wide view of lawns and terraces. "As for you, Mr. Beverley,"
continued the Duchess, with her most imperious air, "you may bring a
seat--here, beside me,--and help the Captain to amuse me."
"Madam," said Barnabas, his bow very solemn and very deep, "I am
about to leave, and--with your permission--I--"
"You have my permission to--sit here beside me, sir. So! A dish of
tea? No? Ah, well--we were just talking of you; the Captain was
describing how he first met you--"
"Bowing to a gate-post, mam,--on my word as a sailor and a Christian,
it was a gate-post,--I say, an accurs--a confoundedly rotten old
stick of a gate-post."
"I remember," sighed Barnabas.
"And to-day, sir," continued the Captain, "to-day you must come
clambering over a gentleman's garden wall to bow and scrape to a--"
"Don't dare to say--another stick, Jack Chumly!" cried the Duchess.
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