Lothaw was immensely rich. The possessor of seventeen castles, fifteen villas, nine shooting-boxes, and seven town houses, he had other estates of which he had not even heard.
Everybody at Plusham played croquet, and none badly. Next to their purity of blood and great wealth, the family were famous for this accomplishment. Yet Lothaw soon tired of the game, and after seriously damaging his aristocratically large foot in an attempt to "tight croquet" the Lady Aniseed's ball, he limped away to join the Duchess.
"I'm going to the hennery," she said.
"Let me go with you, I dearly love fowls--broiled," he added, thoughtfully.
"The Duke gave Lady Montairy some large Cochins the other day," continued the Duchess, changing the subject with delicate tact.
"Lady Montairy, Quite contrairy, How do your cochins grow?" sang Lothaw gayly.
The Duchess looked shocked. After a prolonged silence, Lothaw abruptly and gravely said:--"If you please, ma'am, when I come into my property I should like to build some improved dwellings for the poor, and marry Lady Coriander."
"You amaze me, dear friend, and yet both your aspirations are noble and eminently proper," said the Duchess; "Coriander is but a child,--and yet," she added, looking graciously upon her companion, "for the matter of that, so are you."
