oat, so that it was displayed to the utmost
advantage. And then, only fancy, Susan discovered that it was in her
sable muff all the time!

All three ladies were on tenterhooks of anxiety as to who was to be
placed on Mr. Wyse's right, who on his left, and who would be given only
the place between two other women. But his tact was equal to anything.

"Miss Mapp," he said, "will you honour me by taking the head of my table
and be hostess for me? Only I must have that vase of flowers removed,
Figgis; I can look at my flowers when Miss Mapp is not here. Now, what
have we got for breakfast--lunch, I should say?"

The macaroni which Mr. Wyse had brought back with him from Naples
naturally led on to Italian subjects, and the general scepticism about
the Contessa di Faraglione had a staggering blow dealt it.

"My sister," began Mr. Wyse (and by a swift sucking motion, Diva drew
into her mouth several serpents of dependent macaroni in order to be
able to listen better without this agitating distraction), "my sister, I
hope, will come to England this winter, and spend several weeks with
me." (Sensation.)

"And the Count?" asked Diva, having swallowed the serpents.

"I fear not; Cecco--Francesco, you know--is a great stay-at-home. Amelia
is looking forward very much to seeing Tilling. I shall insist on her
making a long stay here, before she visits our relations at Whitchurch."

Elizabeth found herself reserving judgment. She would believe in the
Contessa Faraglione--no one more firmly--when she saw her, and had
reasonable proofs of her identity.

"Delightful!" she said, abandoning with regret the fruitless pursuit
with a fork of the few last serpents that writhed on her plate. "What an
addition to our society! We shall all do our best to spoil her, Mr.
Wyse. When do you expect her?"

"Early in December. You must be very kind to her, dear ladies. She is an
insatiable bridge-player. She has heard much of the great players she
will meet here."

That decided Mrs. Poppit. She would join the correspondence class
conducted by "Little Slam," in "Cosy Corner." Little Slam, for the sum
of two guineas, payable in advance, engaged to make first-class players
of anyone with normal intelligence. Diva's mind flew off to the subject
of dress, and the thought of the awful tragedy concerning the tea-gown
of kingfisher-blue, combined with the endive salad, gave a wry twist to
her mouth for a moment.

"I, as you know," continued Mr. Wys