ould say was, that there was nothing in her manner to that
young Buccaneer or Bosinney or whatever his name was, different from her
manner to himself; in fact, he should rather say...." But here the
entrance of Frances and Euphemia put an unfortunate stop to the
conversation, for this was not a subject which could be discussed before
young people.

And though Swithin was somewhat upset at being stopped like this on the
point of saying something important, he soon recovered his affability.
He was rather fond of Frances--Francie, as she was called in the family.
She was so smart, and they told him she made a pretty little pot of
pin-money by her songs; he called it very clever of her.

He rather prided himself indeed on a liberal attitude towards women, not
seeing any reason why they shouldn't paint pictures, or write tunes, or
books even, for the matter of that, especially if they could turn a
useful penny by it; not at all--kept them out of mischief. It was not as
if they were men!

'Little Francie,' as she was usually called with good-natured contempt,
was an important personage, if only as a standing illustration of the
attitude of Forsytes towards the Arts. She was not really 'little,' but
rather tall, with dark hair for a Forsyte, which, together with a grey
eye, gave her what was called 'a Celtic appearance.' She wrote songs with
titles like 'Breathing Sighs,' or 'Kiss me, Mother, ere I die,' with a
refrain like an anthem:

'Kiss me, Mother, ere I die;
Kiss me-kiss me, Mother, ah!
Kiss, ah! kiss me e-ere I--
Kiss me, Mother, ere I d-d-die!'

She wrote the words to them herself, and other poems. In lighter moments
she wrote waltzes, one of which, the 'Kensington Coil,' was almost
national to Kensington, having a sweet dip in it.

It was very original. Then there were her 'Songs for Little People,' at
once educational and witty, especially 'Gran'ma's Porgie,' and that
ditty, almost prophetically imbued with the coming Imperial spirit,
entitled 'Black Him In His Little Eye.'

Any publisher would take these, and reviews like 'High Living,' and the
'Ladies' Genteel Guide' went into raptures over: 'Another of Miss Francie
Forsyte's spirited ditties, sparkling and pathetic. We ourselves were
moved to tears and laughter. Miss Forsyte should go far.'

With the true instinct of her breed, Francie had made a point of knowing
the right people--people who would write about her, and talk about