Ah! A good man, but--er--tiresome," says Julia, vaguely, with a
cleverly suppressed yawn; she is evidently under the impression that
they are discussing Jeremy Taylor, _not_ the gentleman in the Strand.

"_Is_ he good?" asks Dicky, somewhat at sea. "A capital fellow to make
trousers, I know, but for his morality I can't vouch."

"I am speaking of the divine, Jeremy Taylor," says Julia, very justly
shocked at what she believes to be levity on the part of Dicky. "_He_
didn't make trousers, he only made maxims!"

"Poor soul!" says Mr. Browne, with heartfelt pity in his tone, to whom
Jeremy Taylor is a revelation, and a sad one. "Did he die of 'em?"

Of this frivolous remark Julia deigns to take no notice. And, indeed,
they are all too accustomed to Mr. Browne's eccentricities of style to
spend time trying to unravel them.

"You haven't yet explained to me the important business that kept you at
home all day," Dulce is saying to Mr. Gower. She is leaning slightly
forward, and is looking down into his eyes.

"Tenants and a steward, and such like abominations," he says, rather
absently. Then, his glance wandering to her little white, slender
fingers, that are idly trifling with her fan, "By-the-by," he goes on,
"the steward--Mayne, you know--can write with both hands. Odd, isn't it?
Just as well with his left as with his right."

"A rather useless accomplishment, I should think."

"I don't know. It occurred to me we should all learn how to do it, in
case we should break our arms, or our legs, or anything."

"What on earth would our legs have to do with it," says Miss Blount,
with a gay little laugh, which he echoes.

"Oh? well, in case we should sprain our right wrists, then. When Mayne
went away I tried if _I_ could make use of my left hand, and succeeded
rather well. Look here, you hold your hand like this."

"It sounds difficult," says Dulce, doubtfully.

"It isn't though, really. Will you try?" Taking a pencil and an envelope
from his pocket, he lays the latter on her knee, and hands her the
former. "Now let me hold your hand just at first to guide you, and you
will soon see how simple it is. Only practice is required."

"It will take a good deal of practice and a good deal of guidance, I
shouldn't wonder," says Miss Blount, smiling.

"That will be my gain," returns he in a low tone. As he speaks he lays
his hand on hers, and directs the pencil; so the lesson begins; and so
it continues uninterrupted for se