cooking a little
monotonous," says poor Dulce, feeling as if she is a culprit fresh
brought to the bar of justice.

"Monotonous!" says Miss Gaunt, in an affronted tone, giving her bonnet
an indignant touch that plants it carefully over her left ear. "I don't
think I understand. A monotonous cook! In my day there were bad cooks,
and good cooks, and indifferent cooks, but monotonous cooks--never! Am I
to believe by your accusation that she repeats herself?"

"Like history; exactly so. Very neat, indeed," says Mr. Browne,
approvingly.

"Well, in the matter of puddings, she does--rather," says Dulce,
somewhat fearfully.

"Ah! In point of fact, she doesn't suit you," says Miss Gaunt, fixing
Dulce with a stony glare.

"There you are wrong," puts in Mr. Browne, regardless of the fact that
she has treated all his other overtures with open contempt, "that is
exactly what she does. Don't take a false impression of the case. She
_suets_ us tremendously! Doesn't she, Dulce?"

Here Miss Blount, I regret to say, laughs out loud, so does Sir Mark, to
everybody's horror. Mr. Browne alone maintains a dignified silence. What
Miss Gaunt might or might not have said on this occasion must now
forever remain unknown, as Sir Christopher enters at this moment, and
shortly after him Mr. Boer.

"Was Florence unable to come? I hope she is quite well," says Dulce,
with conventional concern.

"Quite, thank you. But she feared the air."

"The heir?" says Julia Beaufort, inquiringly, turning to Dicky, who is
now unhappily quite close to her. Julia, who never listens to anything,
has just mastered the fact that Florence Boer is under discussion, and
has heard the word "air" mentioned in connection with her.

"Yes. Didn't you hear of it?" says Dicky Browne, confidentially.

"No," says Julia, also, confidentially.

"Why, it is common talk now," says Dicky, as if surprised at her
ignorance on a subject so well known to the rest of the community.

"Never heard a word of it," says Julia. "Was it in the papers!"

"N--o. Hardly, I think," says Dicky.

Even as he ceases speaking, three words, emanating from Mr. Boer's
ecclesiastical lips, attract Julia's attention. They are as follows:
"sun and air!" He, poor man, has just been telling Dulce that his wife
(who is slightly hypochondriacal) is very susceptible to the influences
of both light and wind. Julia misunderstands. Misled by Dicky's wilfully
false insinuation about Florence, whose inc