wered that. "I want him to be amused, and put in a good
humour," she said, "before I speak to him. You must lunch with us--and
ask Cecilia." She stopped, and considered once more. "Mind one thing,"
she went on. "Your uncle is to know nothing about it. If you tell him, I
will never speak to you again."

Is this not extraordinary? Whatever her dream may have been, it has
evidently produced a strong impression on her. I firmly believe she
means to take him away with her to her own room, when the luncheon is
over. Dearest Cecilia, you must help me to stop this! I have never been
trusted with her secrets; they may, for all I know, be innocent secrets
enough, poor soul! But it is surely in the highest degree undesirable
that she should take into her confidence a young man who is only an
acquaintance of ours: she will either make herself ridiculous, or do
something worse. If Mr. Farnaby finds it out, I really tremble for what
may happen.

For the sake of old friendship, don't leave me to face this difficulty
by myself. A line, only one line, dearest, to say that you will not fail
me.

BOOK THE THIRD. MRS. FARNABY'S FOOT

CHAPTER 1

It is an afternoon concert; and modern German music was largely
represented on the programme. The patient English people sat in
closely-packed rows, listening to the pretentious instrumental noises
which were impudently offered to them as a substitute for melody. While
these docile victims of the worst of all quackeries (musical quackery)
were still toiling through their first hour of endurance, a passing
ripple of interest stirred the stagnant surface of the audience caused
by the sudden rising of a lady overcome by the heat. She was quickly led
out of the concert-room (after whispering a word of explanation to two
young ladies seated at her side) by a gentleman who made a fourth member
of the party. Left by themselves, the young ladies looked at each other,
whispered to each other, half rose from their places, became confusedly
conscious that the wandering attention of the audience was fixed on
them, and decided at last on following their companions out of the hall.

But the lady who had preceded them had some reason of her own for not
waiting to recover herself in the vestibule. When the gentleman in
charge of her asked if he should get a glass of water, she answered
sharply, "Get a cab--and be quick about it."

The cab was found in a moment; the gentleman got in after her, by t