ily about
Madonna's fingers, and made her anxious, though she hardly knew why,
to leave the room. She advanced hastily to Valentine, and made the sign
which indicated Mrs. Blyth, by laying her hand on her heart; she then
pointed up-stairs. Valentine, understanding what she wanted, gave her
leave directly to return to his wife's room. Before Zack could make even
a gesture to detain her, she had slipped out of the studio, after not
having remained in it much longer than five minutes.

"Zack," whispered Mr. Blyth, as the door closed, "I am anything but
pleased with you for bringing Madonna down-stairs. You have broken
through all rule in doing so; and, besides that, you have confused your
friend by introducing her to him without any warning or preparation."

"Oh, that doesn't matter," interrupted young Thorpe. "He's not the sort
of man to want warning about anything. I apologize for breaking rules;
but as for Mat--why, hang it, Blyth, it's plain enough what has been
wrong with him since supper came in! He's fairly knocked up with doing
Hercules for you. You have kept the poor old Guy for near two hours
standing in one position, without a rag on his back; and then you
wonder--"

"Bless my soul! that never occurred to me. I'm afraid you're right,"
exclaimed Valentine. "Do let us make him take something hot and
comfortable! Dear, dear me! how ought one to mix grog?"

Mr. Blyth had been for some little time past trying his best to compound
a species of fiery and potential Squaw's Mixture for Mat. He had begun
the attempt some minutes before Madonna left the studio; having found
it useless to offer any explanations to his inattentive guest of
the meaning of the girl's signs and gestures with the slate and
tobacco-pouch. He had persevered in his hospitable endeavor all through
the whispered dialogue which had just passed between Zack and himself;
and he had now filled the glass nearly to the brim, when it suddenly
occurred to him that he had put sherry in at the top of the tumbler,
after having begun with brandy at the bottom; also that he had
altogether forgotten some important ingredient which he was, just then,
perfectly incapable of calling to mind.

"Here, Mat!" cried Zack. "Come and mix yourself something hot. Blyth's
been trying to do it for you, and can't."

Mat, who had been staring more and more vacantly into the fire all
this time, turned round again at last towards his friends at the supper
table. He started a