ately into her boudoir (as she called it), to lay aside my wraps.

"Has he not soulful eyes?" she asked.

"Who?" said I, though I knew to whom she must refer.

"Mr. Barr."

"What is he?" said I.

"A Bohemian, dear," she replied in a tone of satisfaction.

"Really?"

I had long wished to meet a member of that mysterious brotherhood, of
which of course I had heard and read.

"Yes. He is a poet-painter, and a great friend of Mr. Spence. Have you
never seen his pictures? Even Mr. Spence admits that they possess the
_abandon_ of genius, although he disapproves of _abandon_. Their views
to-day are totally dissimilar, but yet their friendship is sympathetic
as ever. Is it not inspiring?"

"Mr. Spence is coming, I hope?"

"Oh, yes. I expect him every moment, and I have made Mr. Barr promise to
get him to give us an exposition. Not knowing how you might feel,
Virginia (may I call you Virginia? It seems so much more natural after
having heard your aunt always speak of you in that way. Thank you, dear.
And if you will call me Lucretia, I shall feel much flattered),--not
knowing how you might feel about coming where there was no matron, I
asked Mrs. Marsh to join us. We do not regard it of importance, and you
will not a little later; but just at first it is perhaps as well. Do
you know Mr. Fleisch by reputation? He plays with an artistic charm,
rare even in this musical epoch. He is a follower of Mr. Spence, and is
seeking to apply his principles of moderation to music with striking
success. Ah! you must excuse me, dear, it is his knock."

I understood that she referred to Mr. Spence, and I waited an instant to
put a finishing touch to my toilet before following her into the other
room. For I had still something of the old Adam, or rather of the old
Eve, left in me; so that I must confess my eagerness for culture was not
without a spice of coquetry, half unconscious though it were.

Mr. Spence from his appearance was fairly entitled to be called a
moderationist. He had nothing of the splendid savagery of Mr. Paul Barr,
whose luxuriant and matted head of hair now struck my attention, nor the
student-like insignificance of Mr. Fleisch. He was neither tall nor
short, stout nor inadequately spare; and he was in evening dress like
anybody else. Had I met him without knowing who he was, I should never
have imagined him a celebrity. This was my first impression, but a
second look at his face revealed firm though thin lips, a