ows, and nose long in the bridge, wide in the nostril, tilted in
a gentle gradient; a wide full-lipped nervous mouth, and no chin to
speak of. A thin face lit by restless greenish eyes; stag-like,
dog-like, humorous and alert.

Miss Palliser sent the gaze of those eyes round the room. The hungry,
Satanic humour in them roved, seeking what it might devour. It fell
upon Mr. Rickman.

"What have you got there?"

Miss Harden's reply was inaudible.

"Let me in. I want to look at it."

"Don't, Kitty." Apparently an explanation followed from Miss Harden.
It also was inaudible.

"Lu-_chee_-a.! Where is Miss Roots, B.A.?"

"Please, _please_, Kitty. Do go into the morning-room."

This painful scene was cut short by Robert, who announced that tea was
served.

"Oh joy!" said Miss Palliser, and disappeared.

Lucia, following, found her examining the tea-tray.

"Only two cups," said Miss Palliser. "Isn't it going to get any tea
then?"

"Isn't what going to get any tea?"

"It. The man thing you keep in there."

"Yes. But it doesn't get it here."

"I think you might ask it in. It might amuse me."

Lucia ignored the suggestion.

"I haven't talked," said Miss Palliser, "to a man thing for ages."

"It hasn't come to be talked to. It's much too busy."

"Mayn't it come in, just for a treat?"

Lucia shook her head.

"What's it like? Is it nice to look at?"

"No--yes--no."

"What? Haven't you made up your mind yet?"

"I haven't thought about it."

"Lucia, you're a perfect dog in the manger. You don't care a rap about
the creature yourself, and yet you refuse to share it with your
friend. I put it to you. Here we are, you and I, living in a howling
wilderness untrodden by the foot of man, where even curates are at a
premium--is it right, is it fair of you, to have a presentable
man-thing in the house and to keep it to yourself?"

"Well--you see, it--it isn't so very presentable."

"Rubbish, I saw it. It looked perfectly all right."

"That," said Lucia, "is illusion. You haven't heard it speak."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing--nothing. Only it isn't exactly what you'd call a gentleman."

"Oh. Well, I think you might have told me that before."

"I've been trying to tell you."

Kitty reflected a moment. "So it's making a catalogue, is it? Whose
bright idea is that?"

"It was grandpapa's. It's mine now." She did not mention that it was
also Horace Jewdwine's.

"And what will your little papa say?