Mrs. Lovegrove spoke in a very low
voice, and with pedantic distinctness.

"I almost fell asleep, I think," said Mrs.
Frost, with much nonchalance.

"You were—excuse me—snoring,"
replied Mrs. Lovegrove, in her gentlest and
most distinct accents.

Mrs. Frost did not at all like to be told
that she had been snoring. But as this is
an accusation against which we are all helpless,
seeing that in the nature of things we
cannot be conscious whether we have snored
or not, she did not attempt to rebut it.

"Don't you think you keep your room
rather—stuffy?" she said, wrinkling up
her handsome nose.

"Stuffy? If I apprehend your meaning,
I think not. You see, you live in one of
those new lath-and-plaster houses that
really are barely weather-proof. No doubt
you find some compensating advantage in
doing so. But I confess that for myself,
I prefer a solid, well-built, old-fashioned
mansion. How is Mr. Frost?"

"Quite well, I believe. He said he was
coming to wait upon you by-and-bye."

"Is he quite well? Now is he? I am
rejoiced to hear it. Mr. Lovegrove has
been thinking him looking rather fagged of
late. We live in high-pressure times. The
friction on a railway, for instance, is so
much more tremendous than the friction on
an old mail-coach road. And yet it may
be doubted——Is anything the matter?"

"No: I—I—only want to sneeze. How
very pungent the stuff in those jars is!
You don't put snuff in it, do you?"

"Snuff! My dear Mrs. Frost——!"

"I feel as though I had some grains of
snuff up my nose."

"My pot- pourri is prepared after a
recipe that was always used down at our
family place."

"Ah!" said Mrs. Frost, languidly. "I
dare say it is very nice when one gets a
little—seasoned to it."

Then Mrs. Lovegrove led the conversation
into her own ground. She discoursed
of ritualism, of stoles, tapers, and censers.
After these subjects came the British
aristocracy, collectively and individually.
Thence, she slid easily to the immense
number of invitations her girls had received
this season. Finally, reserving her bonne
bouche to the last, she spoke of their dear
young friend, .Miss Desmond, Lady Tallis-Gale's
niece, and herself connected with
some of our most ancient families.

"I am no leveller," said Mrs. Lovegrove,
in a kind of self-denying way (as who
should say, "If I did but choose it, I could
lay existing institutions as flat as a bowling-
green!"). "No. I approve and
reverence the distinctions of rank and birth.
You may tell me that these are inborn
prejudices——"

"Not at all," drawled Mrs. Frost, checking,
but not concealing, a yawn.

"Well, I will not deny that there may
be some tinge of early prejudice. But
when we lived at our family place, papa
always impressed on us to pay the same
respect to those few persons who were
above us in rank as we exacted from our
inferiors. Papa was a staunch Tory of the
old school. But he had no arrogant pride
of birth. He used to say——Ah, here is
Mr. Frost. How do you do, Mr. Frost?
We were speaking—or, at least, I was
speaking, for I do not think your wife
knows her—of our dear Miss Desmond.
You cannot think how the girls have taken
to her. She is not here half as much as
we could wish though. For her attendance
on Lady Tallis is most unremitting.
But we feel towards her as a daughter.
As to my son Augustus——! Well, do you
know, I scarcely know how to describe the
impression the sweet girl has made on
Augustus!"

Mr. Frost smiled very graciously, and
seemed much interested.

"We are going to have, I won't call it
a party, a little social gathering, to which
we have persuaded Miss Desmond to come,
on the Feast of Saint Werewulf—that is,"
added Mrs. Lovegrove, with a melancholy
smile, "next Saturday. I dare say you are
not familiar with the saints' days?"

"I don't know anything about Saint
Werewulf," said Mrs. Frost.

"We shall have music, and endeavour to
be innocently gay; none the less gay for
having attended a matin service in honour
of the saint. Our religion is not gloomy
and mirth-forbidding. If you and Mrs.
Frost would join us we should be
unaffectedly glad."

Mrs. Frost had opened her mouth to
decline the invitation, but her husband
interposed.

"You are extremely good, Mrs. Lovegrove,"
he said. "We will come with
pleasure."

"Why in the world did you say yes to
that oppressive woman's invitation,
Sidney?" asked his wife, as he was handing
her into her carriage. " I shan't go. She
really is too much. If you had heard the
stuff she was talking about her family