e to pull each other to pieces, for the last five minutes, about the
portrait of an officer a little to the left of the door of the first
room; and, I declare, you have not heard a word that has been going.
Pretty doings, Mr Simon; and who, may I ask, is the happy lady that so
engrosses your thoughts?"

"Oh, Mrs. Greenwood!"

"Well, well, then, if it's a secret, I won't press it! But what is your
opinion of the portrait? Miss Barbara Silliman here maintains it is
beauty in the abstract."

"Oh he's quite a love of a man!" broke in Miss Barbara, in a rapture of
affectation; whereat Miss Gingerly appeared mightily shocked, and pursed
up her mouth till it looked like a parched apple.

"But Miss Linton, on the contrary, says she thinks it rather plain for a
military man. Now, we want your decision on this knotty point."

"Oh, why, really--a portrait of an officer, I think you said. Fair
complexion, flaxen ringlets, and light blue eyes--beautiful, indeed!
That is to say--I don't know; but"--and here poor Silky looked
hopelessly about for an idea--"upon the whole, I think I declare for
Miss Linton."

"Well, really, Mr Simon, that _is_ coming to the point. Jemima, my dear,
do you hear what Mr Silky says? Declares for you already! Upon my word,
a fair proposal!" said Mrs Greenwood, catching up the allusion, and
looking excessively matronly and significant.

"Fair complexion, flaxen ringlets, light blue eyes!" broke in Miss
Barbara Silliman, with that delicate spitefulness to which young ladies
are subject, when they suspect any of their rivals of having produced an
impression on one of the male creatures. "A pretty officer, indeed! It's
you, Miss Linton, that Mr Silky means. Quite a conquest, I declare."
Having said this for the benefit of the company, she murmured to
herself, "I wonder at the man's taste. A gawky minx!"

If Mr Silky felt uncomfortable before, he was now reduced to the lowest
pitch of personal misery. He tried to smile, as if he took the thing as
a good joke; but the contortions of his visage were galvanic. Everybody,
he was sure, was looking at him, and he stammered out some inarticulate
words, by way of extricating himself from his awkward position. What
they were he knew not; but they only seemed to have made matters worse;
for another titter ran round the circle, and showers of badinage
assailed him on every side. Mr Simon Silky began to speculate whether
sitting on the points of a score of red-hot