ville, Seymour, and George--the
tastes of a gentleman. I prefer him infinitely to your cowardly democrat,
who barks for what he can't get, and is generally beastly. In fact, I'm
not sure that I haven't a secret passion for the great tailor.'

'After all, old Mel wasn't so bad,' Mr. George Uplift chimed in.

'Granted a tailor--you didn't see a bit of it at table. I've known him
taken for a lord. And when he once got hold of you, you couldn't give him
up. The squire met him first in the coach, one winter. He took him for a
Russian nobleman--didn't find out what he was for a month or so. Says
Mel, "Yes, I make clothes. You find the notion unpleasant; guess how
disagreeable it is to me." The old squire laughed, and was glad to have
him at Croftlands as often as he chose to come. Old Mel and I used to
spar sometimes; but he's gone, and I should like to shake his fist
again.'

Then Mr. George told the 'Bath' story, and episodes in Mel's career as
Marquis; and while he held the ear of the table, Rose, who had not spoken
a word, and had scarcely eaten a morsel during dinner, studied the
sisters with serious eyes. Only when she turned them from the Countess to
Mrs. Strike, they were softened by a shadowy drooping of the eyelids, as
if for some reason she deeply pitied that lady.

Next to Rose sat Drummond, with a face expressive of cynical enjoyment.
He devoted uncommon attention to the Countess, whom he usually shunned
and overlooked. He invited her to exchange bows over wine, in the fashion
of that day, and the Countess went through the performance with finished
grace and ease. Poor Andrew had all the time been brushing back his hair,
and making strange deprecatory sounds in his throat, like a man who felt
bound to assure everybody at table he was perfectly happy and
comfortable.

'Material enough for a Sartoriad,' said Drummond to Lady Jocelyn.

'Excellent. Pray write it forthwith, Drummond', replied her ladyship; and
as they exchanged talk unintelligible to the Countess, this lady observed
to the Duke:

'It is a relief to have buried that subject.'

The Duke smiled, raising an eyebrow; but the persecuted Countess
perceived she had been much too hasty when Drummond added,

'I'll make a journey to Lymport in a day or two, and master his history.'

'Do,' said her ladyship; and flourishing her hand, '"I sing the Prince of
Snobs!"'

'Oh, if it's about old Mel, I 'll sing you material enough,' said Mr.
George. 'There!