"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 understudy 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."
"I think you are a perfect angel," said the Duke.
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