do
not agree with Mr. Spence. In fact, we never agree upon any subject. But
we are friends, life-long, bosom friends. Shake, Charles, shake! we have
not given the grip and pressure of amity to-night."

He spoke in a deep, sonorous base, and extended to his friend a hirsute
hand.

"It is true we belong to different schools, Mr. Barr and I, Miss
Harlan," said Mr. Spence. "He believes in the supremacy of the
untrammelled, as his poems and pictures show; I, on the contrary, give
my voice to equipoise. But, as he has well said, we are devoted
friends."

"You shall judge between us," continued Paul Barr addressing me. "Which
is better, the free undulation of self, or eternal tension?"

"A fine antithesis," murmured Miss Kingsley.

"_Mein Gott!_ but it is not true, that free undulation of self. It
deceives, it deludes: it is a--what word is it I am seeking?--a--eh--I
have it,--boomerang,--a boomerang that plagues the inventor," said Mr.
Fleisch.

"Refuted, well refuted!" said Mr. Spence. "Fleisch has hit the mark. The
overmuch is indeed a boomerang. Thanks, Bernard, for the epigram," he
added, turning to the little German.

Everybody clapped their hands except myself and Mr. Barr. I preferred to
remain neutral. As for the artist, he stood stroking his beard fiercely
with his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

At this moment the door opened, and a maidservant announced tea.

Mr. Spence looked at Miss Kingsley interrogatively. "From this moment,
please," said she.

He shrugged his shoulders and sighed; and as we walked in to tea
together Miss Kingsley whispered that he was about to practise his
theory.

"Of course, Virginia dear, every one will understand that you are a
novice, and you will be at liberty to talk in your natural manner. The
rest of us are expected to assist Mr. Spence as far as possible. I am
all in a flutter; I know I shall break down."

The room in which we took tea was a veritable snuggery. The servant
found it difficult to get round the table, and there was a strong smell
of the frying-pan owing to the vicinity of the tiny kitchen. But these
inconveniences, if they were so to be called, merely added to my zest
and enjoyment. Here, indeed, was agreeable and talented society! Aunt
Agnes was right,--my associates hitherto had been frivolous and
volatile. The world of fashion was a sham. What a contrast,--I could not
help making it,--between the insipid speeches of my former friends and
the clever talk