ked up in his face with one of her mischievous, dangerous smiles,
and put up her hands in an attitude of petition. "He must have the part
if you won't. Be good, and don't spoil the play. I have set my mind on
its being perfect, and--I will have _such_ a dress as the _Countess_ if
you will only do as I tell you."

Cecil, in her soft, childlike moods, could finish any man. Of course
Vivian rehearsed "Love" with her that afternoon, a play that was to come
off on the 23rd. Cos sulked slightly at being commanded by her to dress
himself beautifully and play the _Prince of Milan_.

"To be refused by you," lisped Horace. "Oh, I dare say! No! 'pon my
life----"

"My dear Cos, you'll have plenty of fellow-sufferers," whispered Syd,
mischievously.

"Do you dare to disobey me, Sir Horace?" cried Cecil. "For shame! I
should have thought you more of a preux chevalier. If you don't order
over from Boxwood that suit of Milan armor you say one of your ancestors
wore at Flodden, and wear it on Tuesday, you shall never waltz with me
again. Now what do you say?"

"Nobody can rethitht you," murmured Cos. "You do anything with a fellow
that you chooth."

Vivian glanced down at him with superb scorn, and turned to me. "What a
confounded frost this is. The weathercock sticks at the north, and old
Ben says there's not a chance of a change till the new moon. Qui Vive
might as well have kept at Hounslow. To waste all the season like this
would make a parson swear! If I'd foreseen it I would have gone to
Paris with Lovell, as he wanted me to do."

I suppose the Colonel was piqued to find he was not the only one
persuaded into his role. He bent over Laura Caldecott's chair, a pretty
girl, but with nothing to say for herself, admired her embroidery, and
talked with great empressement about it, till Laura, much flattered at
such unusual attention, after lisping a good deal of nonsense, finally
promised to embroider a note-case for him, "if you'll be good and use
it, and not throw it away, as you naughty men always do the pretty
things we give you," simpered Miss Laura.

"Hearts included," said Syd, smiling. "I assure you if you give me
yours, I will prize it with Turkish jealousy."

The fair brodeuse gave a silly laugh; and Vivian, whose especial
detestation is this sort of love-making nonsense, went on flirting with
her, talking the persiflage that one whispers leaning over the back of a
phaeton after a dinner at the Castle or a day at Asc