ined to take some himself, he
first invited Miss Assher, who coloured, and said, in rather a sharper
key than usual, 'Have you not learned by this time that I never take
jelly?'

'Don't you?' said Captain Wybrow, whose perceptions were not acute enough
for him to notice the difference of a semitone. 'I should have thought
you were fond of it. There was always some on the table at Farleigh, I
think.'

'You don't seem to take much interest in my likes and dislikes.'

'I'm too much possessed by the happy thought that you like me,' was the
_ex officio_ reply, in silvery tones.

This little episode was unnoticed by every one but Caterina. Sir
Christopher was listening with polite attention to Lady Assher's history
of her last man-cook, who was first-rate at gravies, and for that reason
pleased Sir John--he was so particular about his gravies, was Sir John:
and so they kept the man six years in spite of his bad pastry. Lady
Cheverel and Mr. Gilfil were smiling at Rupert the bloodhound, who had
pushed his great head under his master's arm, and was taking a survey of
the dishes, after snuffing at the contents of the Baronet's plate.

When the ladies were in the drawing-room again, Lady Assher was soon deep
in a statement to Lady Cheverel of her views about burying people in
woollen.

'To be sure, you must have a woollen dress, because it's the law, you
know; but that need hinder no one from putting linen underneath. I always
used to say, "If Sir John died tomorrow, I would bury him in his shirt;"
and I did. And let me advise you to do so by Sir Christopher. You never
saw Sir John, Lady Cheverel. He was a large tall man, with a nose just
like Beatrice, and so very particular about his shirts.'

Miss Assher, meanwhile, had seated herself by Caterina, and, with that
smiling affability which seems to say, 'I am really not at all proud,
though you might expect it of me,' said,--'Anthony tells me you sing so
very beautifully. I hope we shall hear you this evening.'

'O yes,' said Caterina, quietly, without smiling; 'I always sing when I
am wanted to sing.'

'I envy you such a charming talent. Do you know, I have no ear; I cannot
hum the smallest tune, and I delight in music so. Is it not unfortunate?
But I shall have quite a treat while I am here; Captain Wybrow says you
will give us some music every day.'

'I should have thought you wouldn't care about music if you had no ear,'
said Caterina, becoming epigrammatic by for