them. Do you know much about music, Mr. Train?"
"I have heard it a good deal talked about," replied Leonard, with the air of saying something clever.
"And great rubbish they talk," put in Mrs. Taine, smoothing one hand over the other. "In my young days we talked of Wagner and Weber. Now it is all Vagner and Veber-such affectation."
"Ah! manners are not what they used to be," sighed another old lady, who prided herself on her straight back and clear eyesight.
"Nor singers," said Mr. Granger. "There are no voices nowadays, none."
"What about Calve and Melba?" asked Leonard.
"Those are foreigners," said Mr. Granger, getting out of the difficulty. "I speak of our native talent, sir."
"Melba comes from Australia."
"She is not English-a foreigner, I tell you. Don't talk to me, sir."
Mr. Granger was becoming restive at being thus contradicted, and privately thought Leonard an impertinent young man. Madame, seeing that the old gentleman was ruffled, hastily intervened. "If Mrs. Taine will play us the 'Canary Bird Quadrilles' how pleased we shall be."
Mrs. Taine obliged, and Harmer hung over the piano, quite enraptured at these airs which recalled his hot youth. Afterward he begged for the "Mabel Waltz." Meantime Margery was sitting in the corner with Miss Bull, and both were engrossed with "Patience." Madame, under cover of the music, talked with Train.
"You mustn't mind the guests," she said; "they are old and require to be humored."
"It's most amusing, Madame. I shall stop here three weeks to pick up types."
"Oh! you must stay longer than that," said Madame, smiling and patting his hand, still in a motherly way; "now, that you have found us out, we cannot lose you. By the way-" here Mrs. Jersey's eyes became very searching-"how did you find us out?"
"It was a friend of mine, Madame. He knew that I wanted to get into the Dickens world, and suggested this house. I am not disappointed-oh, not at all-" and Leonard glanced at Margery, who was fat, dull and stupid in her looks. She certainly resembled one of Dickens's characters, but he could not recollect which at the moment.
"Do I know the gentleman?" asked Madame, who seemed anxious.
"I don't think so. But he is coming to see me to-night."
"You must ask him in here and introduce him. I should like to thank him for having recommended my house."
"We were going to have a conversation in my room," said Train, dubiously; "he's such a shy fellow that I don't think he'll come in."
"Oh! but, he must; I love young people." Madame looked round and shrugged. "It is rather dreary here at times, Mr. Train."
"I can quite believe that," replied Leonard, who already was beginning to find the Dickens types rather boring. "Who is that tall old man with the long hair?"
"Hush! He may hear you. His name is Rasper. A great inventor, a most distinguished man."
"What has he invented?"
"Oh, all sorts of things," replied Mrs. Jersey, vaguely. "His name is quite a household word in Clapham. See, he's inventing something now." Mr. Rasper, who had rather a haggard appearance, as though he used his brains too much, was glooming over the back of an envelope and the stump of a pencil. He frowned as he chewed this latter, and seemed bent upon working out an abstruse problem. "But it will really will not do, Mr. Train," said Madame, shaking her head till "the diamonds" twinkled; "this is our evening of relaxation. But Miss Bull, against all precedent, is playing 'Patience,' and here is Mr. Rasper inventing." She rose to interrupt Mr. Rasper, but remained to ask Leonard if his friend was stopping the night.
"He will if he comes at all," replied Leonard, looking at his watch; "but if the fog is very thick I don't know if he'll turn up. It is now nine o'clock."
"We usually disperse at eleven," said Madame, "but on this night I must break up at ten, as I have-" she hesitated-"I have business to do."
"I won't trouble you, Madame," said Train; "my friend and I can have supper in my room."
"That's just it," said Madame, and her voice became rather hard. "I beg, Mr. Train, that you and your friend will not sit up late."
"Why not? We both wish to smoke and talk."
"You can do that in the daytime, Mr. Train. But my house is most respectable, and I hope you will be in bed before eleven."
Leonard would have protested, as he objected to this sort of maternal government, but Mrs. Jersey rustled away, and he was left to make the best of it. Before he could collect his wits a message came that he was wanted. "By Jove! it's George," he said and hurried out of the room. Mrs. Jersey overheard the name.
"I suppose his friend is called George," she thought, and frowned. Her recollections of that name were not pleasant. However, she thought no more about the matter, but rebuked Mr. Rasper for his inattention to the 'Mabel Waltz.' "It is so sweet of Mrs. Taine to play it."
"I beg pardon-beg pardon," stuttered Rasper, putting away his envelope and looking up with a dreamy eye. "I was inventing a new bootjack. I hope to make my fortune out of it."
Madame smiled pityingly. She had heard that prophecy before, but poor Rasper's inventions had never succeeded in getting him the house in Park Lane he was always dreaming about. But she patted his shoulder and then sailed across to Miss Bull. "The music doesn't please you, Miss Bull," she said in rather an acid tone.
"It's very nice," replied the old maid, dealing the cards, "but I have heard the 'Mabel Waltz' before."
"You may not have the chance of hearing it again," said Madame.
Miss Bull shrugged her shoulders to signify that it did not matter.
"I suppose that means Mrs. Taine is about to leave us, she said.
"There may be changes in the establishment soon, Miss Bull."
"It's a world of change," replied Miss Bull, in her sharp voice. "Margery, was that a heart?"
Margery pointed a fat finger to the card in question, and Miss Bull muttered something about her eyesight getting worse. Madame knew that this was just done to annoy her, as Miss Bull's sight was excellent. To revenge herself she took Margery away. "Go and tell the servants to send up the negus and sandwiches," she said sharply.
Margery rose heavily. She was a huge girl of twenty years of age, and apparently very stupid. Why sharp little Miss Bull, who loved no one, had taken to her no one knew; but the two were inseparable. Seeing this, Madame usually kept Margery hard at work in other quarters so as to part her from the old maid. But with the cunning of an animal-and Margery was very much of that type-the girl managed to see a great deal of her one friend. Madame had an idea of the reason for this, but at the present moment did not think it was necessary to interfere. She was quite capable of crushing Miss Bull when the need arose. Meantime she vented her temper by sending Margery away. The girl departed with a scowl and an angry look at her aunt. But Miss Bull never raised her eyes, though she was well aware of what was going on.
Madame was not to be beaten. "I tell you what, dear Miss Bull," she said, smiling graciously, "since you have broken through our rule, and have produced the cards, you shall tell all our fortunes."
"Yours?"
