XII.
THE DUKE
A FICTION OF THE FUTURE
I.
MRS. PAYNTER buttonholed a porter.
"Can you tell me in which carriage the Earl of Datchet is travelling?"
"Who, mum?"
"The Earl of Datchet; or can you point him out to me?"
"No, mum, I can't. I don't know no such gentleman. By your leave, mum!"
Without her leave the porter went off with his load of luggage. The lady turned to her daughter.
"How very uncivil the servants are upon this line!" The young lady said nothing. She simply regarded her mother with an expression of placid scorn. "I wonder if this guard can tell me." A guard came hurrying along the platform. The lady laid hands of violence on him. "Guard, can you tell me which is the Earl of Datchet?"
"The Earl of Datchet, madam? Is he travelling by this train?"
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