her new hat.

'He told me that I'd be the handsomest girl at the Drawing-Room.'

'And what did you say, dear?'

'I asked him how he knew. Was that right?'

'Quite right; and what did he say then?'

'He said, because he had never seen anybody so handsome, and as he had
seen everybody in London, he supposed--I forget the exact words, but
they were very nice; I am sure he admired my new hat; but you--you
haven't told me how you liked it. Do you think I should wear it down on
my eyes, or a bit back?'

'I think it very becoming as it is; but tell me more about Captain
Hibbert.'

'He told me he was coming to meet us at Mass. You know he is a Roman
Catholic?'

'I know he is, dear, and am very glad.'

'If he weren't, he wouldn't be able to meet us at Mass.'

VIII

According to old-established custom, on the arrival of his family Arthur
had turned his nudities to the wall, and now sitting, one leg tucked
under him, on the sofa, throwing back from time to time his long blond
locks, he hummed an Italian air.

'How tired you look, Alice dear! Will you have a cup of tea? It will
freshen you up; you have been walking yourself to death.'

'Thanks, mamma, I will have a cup of tea; Cecilia and I went to see the
Brennans.'

'And are any of them going to be married yet?' said Olive.

'I really don't know; I didn't ask them.'

'Well, they ought to be doing something with themselves; they have been
trying it on long enough. They have been going up to the Shelbourne for
the last ten years. Did they show you the dresses they brought down this
season? They haven't worn them yet--they keep them wrapped up in silver
paper.'

'And how did you hear all that?' she asked.

'Oh, one hears everything! I don't live with my nose buried in a book
like you. That was all very well in the convent.'

'But what have I done that you should speak to me in that way?'

'Now, Alice dear,' said Mrs. Barton coaxingly, 'don't get angry. I
assure you Olive means nothing.'

'No, indeed, I didn't!' Olive exclaimed, and she forced her sister back
into the chair.

Arthur's attention had been too deeply absorbed in the serenade in _Don
Pasquale_ to give heed to the feminine bickering with which his studio
was ringing, until he was startled suddenly from his musical dreaming by
an angry exclamation from his wife.

The picture of the bathers, which Alice had seen begun, had been only
partially turned to the wall, and, after examining i