again—back under the direction of little me, a publicity man with no grass under the feet I've come to give you gentlemen your choice. You either see Lord Harrowby to-morrow morning at ten o'clock and recognize his claims, or I'll have you both thrown into jail for kidnaping."
"To-morrow morning at ten," Harrowby repeated gloomily.
"That's what I said," replied Mr. Trimmer blithely. "How about it, little brother?"
"Minot—what would you advise?"
"See him," sighed Minot.
"Very well." Harrowb's tone was resigned. "I presume I'd better."
"Ah—coming to your senses, aren't you?" said Trimmer. "I hope we aren't spoiling the joyous wedding-day. But then, what I say is, if the girl's marrying you just for the title—"
Harrowby leaped to his feet
"You haven't been asked for an opinion," he said.
"No, of course not. Don't get excited. I'll see you both in the morning at ten." And Mr. Trimmer strolled elegantly away.
