thus the perambulating sandwiches, with so very
little human ham in the middle; thus countless
little handbills that were jerked at the passers-
by, glanced at, and thrown to the winter's wind
to be driven against pillars and posts, to be
caught in railings and gratings, and eventually
to be chased into calm corners, there to lie and
give rise in too hopeful breasts to the delirious
suspicion of five-pound notes.

The day arrived, and it was fine. The air was
clear and crisp, and for the first time for some
weeks the sun came out for a little while, pale
and sickly, like an invalid taking his first
airing after a long illness. Mr. M'Variety
assured the countess that she might rely upon a
bumper.

"You see, countess, in the winter there's
nothing like a fine bright day to give the public
an appetite for a play or an entertainment. It
acts upon them like a bottle of champagne, or a
' picker-up' after a heavy bout the night before.
But it's just the contrary in the summer, if the
entertainment be an in-door one. Then there's
nothing like a shower of rain about five o'clock
in the afternoon. A good smart shower, or a
gloomy drizzle, will drive them in in flocks, like
chickens to roost. Only give me the key of the
weather," said the manager, "and I'll make
Ranelagh pay in the winter and Drury Lane in
the summer."

The countess was busy with her preparations
for the little supper which she was to give to
"her friends" after the performance, and did
not take much heed of the managerial philosophy.
Indeed, she was not much interested; for her
friends and her friends' friends had already taken
a large number of tickets at fancy prices, and
thus her own share was secured.

But M'Varicty had a little matter of business
in view, and continued to lead up to it with
some general observations on managerial policy.
He came at length to the point.

"What about those tickets, countess?"

The countess paused in her occupation, and
looked up at her manager sharply.

"What about those tickets? What tickets?"
she asked.

"The tickets you have sold to your swell
friends," said the manager.

"Well, sir, what about them? I do not
understand you."

"Our arrangement," said the manager, "was
half the receipts of the circus; it was a very
liberal one, I think, on my part."

"On your part!" The countess threw back
his words with a sneer.

"Come, come, countess, be reasonable.
Admit that I have done my best for you, at any
rate. And a bargain's a bargain, you know."
Mr. M'Variety was beginning to plead with her.
The countess perceived this, and took advantage
of it.

"I understand vou," she said; " you expect
me to give you half of the sums which I have
received from my friends; half of the twenty
pounds, for example, which Monsieur Greyfond
presented to me."

"Exactly," said the manager; "that's only
fair."

"Then," said the countess, sternly, "I shall
do no such thing. What is the price of
Monsieur Greyfond's box? Tell me that!"

"Two guineas," said the manager.

"Très bien," said the countess, " you shall
have the half; you shall have one guinea."

"Oh, come, countess, that won't do at all,"
the manager protested.

"Stay," said the countess; "tell me this.
Monsieur Greyfond gave twenty pounds for a
box which he might have had for two guineas.
Was it. for your sake that he lavished his money
thus?"

M'Variety was getting nettled.

"Well, if it comes to that, countess," he said,
"was it for yours P"

The countess had been biting her lip and
restraining herself hitherto, but she burst out
now.

"Insolent!" she exclaimed; "how dare you
come here, into my own house, into my own
apartment, to take from me the presents of my
friends, to rob me, to insult me with your vulgar
words! But, I tell you, I will not submit to
your extortion. I will die first."

She flounced about the room with glaring
eyes and clenched hands as she said this; and at
length put a climax to her rage by seizing one
of the china ornaments on the mantelshelf and
dashing it to atoms against the grate.

M'Variety was sorry he had spoken.

"Look you," continued the countess; " rather
than you shall have any share in my presents, I
will take the notes and the cheques and put them
into the fire."

The countess had the best of the position in
every way. She had the money in her pocket,
and, for the rest, she was utterly indifferent to
consequences. The manager was fully aware
of this, and refrained from pursuing the subject
further.

"I'll bid you good afternoon, countess," he
said, " and talk to you another time, when you
are in a better temper."

"A better temper!" she shouted after him,
as he descended the stairs; " you would vex the
temper of an angel." And she slammed the
door upon him savagely.

"If ever the devil had a daughter," said the
manager, as he crossed the garden, " yon's she,
for a certainty."

Madame Ernestine's temper did not obey the
law of ordinary violent disorders. It was at all
times sharp; but never short. When she had
run up the crescendo scale to the highest note
in the gamut of fury, she went back and repeated
the same exercise again and again, with an
increase rather than a diminution of brilliant
execution. She fumed and stormed all the afternoon,
and when she walked across to the circus
to begin her performance, the thunder was still
rumbling.

As she was entering the circus she met Lord
Carlton. She recovered herself immediately,
and saluted his lordship gaily.