r two poems by a new man that I've just discovered?
They're simply wonderful!"

He drew out the book and we all composed ourselves to the ordeal; Mrs.
Gaston, who is the insincerest creature on earth and has no thoughts beyond
Auction Bridge, even going so far as to say, ecstatically, "A new poet! How
heavenly!"

But Mrs. Leeson stopped it. "Oh, no," she said, "don't let us wait. Very
likely Captain Cathcart will be later still." And with a sigh of relief
that was almost audible we marched down to dinner.

I thought that Leeson cut the time over our cigars rather short, and we had
no sooner returned to the drawing-room than he began again. "I won't keep
you more than a few moments," he said, "but I very much want your opinion
of a new poet I have discovered. I have his work here," and out came the
deadly book, "and I want to read one or two brief things."

"Oh, George, dear," said Mrs. Leeson, "do you mind postponing that for a
little? Miss Langton is very kindly going to sing for us, and she has to
leave early."

Leeson accepted the situation with as much philosophy as he could muster.

As a rule I am bored by amateur, or indeed any, singing after dinner, but I
looked at Miss Langton with an expression which a Society paper reporter
might easily have misconstrued.

Long before she had finished we were all calling out, "Thank you! Thank
you! Encore! Encore!"

Leeson alone was faint in his praises and his face fell to a lower depth
when she began again.

No sooner had she finished and gone than he was planning another effort,
but during the opportunity afforded by her departure we had, with great
address, divided ourselves into such animated groups that Mrs. Leeson, like
a tactful hostess, laid her hand on his arm and caused him again to
postpone it.

He wandered forlornly from chair to chair, seeking an opening, and at last
ventured to clear his throat and again ask if we would like to hear his new
poet. "I assure you he's wonderful!"

But at this moment old Lady Thistlewood uttered a little cry and at once
bells were rung for sal-volatile. Her ladyship, it seems, is subject to
attacks of faintness.

When next Leeson made his proposal the Buntons rose and, expressing every
variety of sorrow and regret, stated that they had no idea it was so late
and they must really tear themselves away; Mrs. Bunton tactfully taking
down the title of this dear new poet's book and its publisher.

This being the signal for