t be
ready for the theatre--when the door was opened and Tom Tringle was
announced. Tom Tringle had come to call on his cousin.

"Lady Baldoni," he said, "I hope you won't think me intrusive, but I
thought I'd come and see my cousin once whilst she is staying here."
The Marchesa bowed, and assured him that he was very welcome. "It's
tremendously hot," said Tom.

"Very hot, indeed," said the Marchesa.

"I don't think it's ever so hot as this in Rome," said Nina, fanning
herself.

"I find it quite impossible to walk a yard," said Tom, "and therefore
I've hired a Hansom cab all to myself. The man goes home and changes
his horse regularly when I go to dinner; then he comes for me at ten,
and sticks to me till I go to bed. I call that a very good plan."
Nina asked him why he didn't drive the cab himself. "That would be a
grind," said he, "because it would be so hot all day, and there might
be rain at night. Have you read what my brother-in-law, Traffick,
said in the House last night, my Lady?"

"I'm afraid I passed it over," said the Marchesa. "Indeed, I am not
very good at the debates."

"They are dull," said Tom, "but when it's one's brother-in-law, one
does like to look at it. I thought he made that very clear about the
malt tax." The Marchesa smiled and bowed.

"What is--malt tax?" asked Nina.

"Well, it means beer," said Tom. "The question is whether the poor
man pays it who drinks the beer, or the farmer who grows the malt. It
is very interesting when you come to think of it."

"But I fear I never have come to think of it," said the Marchesa.

During all this time Ayala never said a word, but sat looking at her
cousin, and remembering how much better Colonel Jonathan Stubbs would
have talked if he had been there. Then, after a pause, Tom got up,
and took his leave, having to content himself with simply squeezing
his cousin's hand as he left the room.

"He is a lout," said Ayala, as soon as she knew that the door was
closed behind him.

"I don't see anything loutish at all," said the Marchesa.

"He's just like most other young men," said Nina.

"He's not at all like Colonel Stubbs," said Ayala.

Then the Marchesa preached a little sermon. "Colonel Stubbs, my
dear," she said, "happens to have been thrown a good deal about the
world, and has thus been able to pick up that easy mode of talking
which young ladies like, perhaps because it means nothing. Your
cousin is a man of business, and will probably