, and
North Pole, the splendid image of themselves, had been transformed by the
Tinleys, and defiled by them to Pole, Polony, and Maypole, they should
have laughed contemptuously; but the terrible nerve of ridicule quivered
in witness against them, and was not to be stilled. They could not
understand why so coarse a thing should affect them. It stuck in their
flesh. It gave them the idea that they saw their features hideous, but
real, in a magnifying mirror.

There was therefore a feud between the Tinleys and the Poles; and when
Mr. Pericles entirely gave up the former, the latter rewarded him by
spreading abroad every possible kind interpretation of his atrocious bad
manners. He was a Greek, of Parisian gilding, whose Parisian hat flew off
at a moment's notice, and whose savage snarl was heard at the slightest
vexation. His talk of renowned prime-donne by their Christian names, and
the way that he would catalogue emperors, statesmen, and noblemen known
to him, with familiar indifference, as things below the musical Art, gave
a distinguishing tone to Brookfield, from which his French accentuation
of our tongue did not detract.

Mr. Pericles grimaced bitterly at any claim to excellence being set up
for the mysterious voice in the woods. Tapping one forefinger on the
uplifted point of the other, he observed that to sing abroad in the night
air of an English Spring month was conclusive of imbecility; and that no
imbecile sang at all. Because, to sing, involved the highest
accomplishment of which the human spirit could boast. Did the ladies see?
he asked. They thought they saw that he carried on a deception admirably.
In return, they inquired whether he would come with them and hunt the
voice, saying that they would catch it for him. "I shall catch a cold for
myself," said Mr. Pericles, from the elevation of a shrug, feeling that
he was doomed to go forth. He acted reluctance so well that the ladies
affected a pretty imperiousness; and when at last he consented to join
the party, they thanked him with a nicely simulated warmth, believing
that they had pleased him thoroughly.

Their brother Wilfrid was at Brookfield. Six months earlier he had
returned from India, an invalided cornet of light cavalry, with a
reputation for military dash and the prospect of a medal. Then he was
their heroic brother he was now their guard. They love him tenderly, and
admired him when it was necessary; but they had exhausted their own
sensati