a sort of Moore and Burgess' performance, with corner
men always asking riddles that nobody can ever answer. Mr. Amarinth is
taking himself seriously this morning. He is composing a catch for the
choir-boys to sing to-night after supper. It is to be parody, or, as he
calls it, an elevation of 'Three blind mice,' and is to be about youth
and life. It ought to be amusing."

"Mr. Amarinth is generally amusing."

"Yes, he has got hold of a good recipe for making the world laugh and
think him clever. The only mistake he makes is, that he sometimes serves
up only the recipe, and omits the dish that ought to be the result of it
altogether. One cannot dine off a recipe, however good and ingenious it
may be. It is like reading a guide-book at home instead of travelling.
Dear me, it is too hot! I shall go and lie down and read Oscar Wilde's
'Decay of Lying.' That always sends me to sleep. It is like himself, all
artfulness and no art."

She strolled languidly away, still fanning herself.

Esme Amarinth and Lord Reggie were busy at the piano, inventing and
composing the elevation of "Three blind mice."

Lady Locke could hear an odd little primitive sort of tune, and then
their voices singing, one after the other, some words. She could only
catch a few.

"Rose--white--youth,
Rose--white--youth,
Rose--white--youth,"

sang Lord Reggie's clear, but rather thin voice. Then Amarinth broke in
with a deeper note, and words were lost.

Lady Locke listened for a moment. Then she suddenly turned and went out
of the garden. She made her way to the paddock, and spent the rest of
the morning in playing cricket with her boy and the curate's children.
She caught three people out, made twenty-five runs, and began to feel
quite healthy-minded and cheerful again.

X.

Choir-boys at a distance in their surplices are generally charming.
Choir-boys close by in mundane suits, bought at a cheap tailor's, or
sewed together at home, are not always so attractive. The cherubs' wings
with which imagination has endowed them drop off, and they subside into
cheeky, and sometimes scrubby, little boys, with a tendency towards
peppermints, and a strong bias in favour of slang and tricks. The
choir-boys of Chenecote, however, had been well-trained under Mr.
Smith's ascetic eye; and though he had not drained the humanity entirely
out of them, he had persuaded them to perfect cleanliness, if not to
perfect godliness. They appeared