ent of his head. That young man deserves to be
encouraged."

"You are very generous, Mrs. Leith Fairfax. It would not be well to
encourage him too much, however. You must recollect that he is not used
to society. Injudicious encouragement might perhaps lead him to forget
his real place in it."

"I do not agree with you, Mr. Lind. You do not read human nature as I
do. You know that I am an expert. I see men as he sees a telegraph
instrument, quite uninfluenced by personal feeling."

"True, Mrs. Leith Fairfax. But the heart is deceitful above all things
and des--at least I should say--er. That is, you will admit that the
finest perception may err in its estimate of the inscrutable work of the
Almighty."

"Doubtless. But really, Mr. Lind, human beings are _so_ shallow! I
assure you there is nothing at all inscrutable about them to a trained
analyst of character. It may be a gift, perhaps; but people's minds are
to me only little machines made up of superficial motives."

"I say," said the young gentleman with the banjo, interrupting them:
"have you got a copy of 'Rose softly blooming' there?"

"I!" said Mrs. Fairfax. "No, certainly not."

"Then it's all up with the concert. We have forgotten Marian's music;
and there is nothing for Nelly--I beg pardon, I mean Miss McQuinch--to
play from. She is above playing by ear."

"I _cannot_ play by ear," said the restless young lady, angrily.

"If you will sing 'Coal black Rose' instead, Marian, I can accompany you
on the banjo, and back you up in the chorus. The Wandsworthers--if they
survive the concertinas--will applaud the change as one man."

"It is so unkind to joke about it," said the beautiful young lady. "What
shall I do? If somebody will vamp an accompaniment, I can get on very
well without any music. But if I try to play for myself I shall break
down."

Conolly here stepped aside, and beckoned to the clergyman.

"That young man wants to speak to you," whispered Mrs. Fairfax.

"Oh, indeed. Thank you," said the Rev. Mr. Lind, stiffly. "I suppose I
had better see what he requires."

"I suppose you had," said Mrs. Fairfax, with some impatience.

"I dont wish to intrude where I have no business," said Conolly quietly
to the clergyman; "but I can play that lady's accompaniment, if she will
allow me."

The clergyman was too much afraid of Conolly by this time--he did not
know why--to demur. "I am sure she will not object," he said, pretending
to be relieved by