his conjunction, the which is truly of his own doing."

"Sweet madam," says Geoffrey (who was also called "The Ready"), "shall
I help harness you at his side? Though, for my part, I doubt 'twere
supererogant, in that he buckled you to his service or ever the priest
dipped you."

A bitter jest, this; and the thought of it still tingled on the
girl's cheek and clawed her heart when Geoffrey handed her down at the
portico of Drury Lane Theatre. A new pantomime was afoot. Geoffrey's
father (that bluff red baron) had chartered a box, was already there
with his lady and others.

Lily among peonies, Angelica sat brooding, her eyes fastened on the
stage, Geoffrey behind her chair, brooding by the same token.
Presto, he saw a flood of pink rush up her shoulders to her ears. The
"principal boy" had just skipped on to the stage. No boy at all (God
be witness), but one Mistress Tina Vandeleur, very apt in masquerado,
and seeming true boy enough to the guileless. Stout of leg,
light-footed, with a tricksy plume to his cap, and the swagger of one
who would beard the Saints for a wager, this Aladdin was just such a
galliard as Angelica had often fondled in her dreams. He lept straight
into the closet of her heart, and "Deus!" she cried, "maugre my
maidenhood, I will follow those pretty heels round the earth!"

Cried Geoffrey "Yea! and will not I presently string his ham to save
your panting?"

"_Tacete!_" cried the groundlings.

A moment after, Geoffrey forgot his spleen. Cupid had noosed
him--bound him tight to the Widow Twankey. This was a woman most
unlike to Angelica: poplar-tall, I grant you; but elm-wide into the
bargain; deep-voiced, robustious, and puffed bravely out with hot
vital essences. Seemed so to Geoffrey, at least, who had no smattering
of theatres and knew not his cynosure to be none other than Master
Willie Joffers, prime buffo of the day. Like Angelica, he had had fond
visions; and lo here, the very lady of them!

Says he to Angelica, "I am heartset on this widow."

"By so much the better!" she laughs. "I to my peacock, you to your
peahen, with a Godspeed from each to other."

How to snare the birds? A pretty problem: the fowling was like to be
delicate. So hale a strutter as Aladdin could not lack for bonamies.
"Will he deign me?" wondered meek Angelica. "This widow," thought
Geoffrey, "is belike no widow at all, but a modest wife with a yea for
no man but her lord." Head to head they took counsel, cudg