s as "the shake-elbows and the
fine weather," and then made no further account of him. Mr. Blanchet,
seeing Heron invited to the study, and knowing from his acquaintance
with the household what that meant, conceived himself slighted, and was
angry. Mr. Money always looked upon Blanchet as a sort of young man whom
only women were ever supposed to care about, and who would be as much
out of place in the private study of a politician and man of business as
a trimmed petticoat.

There was, however, some consolation for the poet in the fact that he
had Minola Grey nearly all to himself. He secured this advantage by a
dexterous stroke of policy, for he attached himself to his sister and
did his best to show and describe to her all the celebrities; and
Minola, only too glad, came and sat by Mary, and they made a very happy
trio. Herbert was inclined to look down upon his sister as a harmless,
old-fashioned little spinster, who would be much better if she did not
try to write poetry. He felt convinced for a while that Minola must have
the same opinion of her in her secret heart, and would not think the
less of him for showing it just a little. But when he found that Miss
Grey took the poetess quite seriously, and had a genuine affection for
her, his sister's value rose immensely in his eyes; he paid her great
attention, and, as has been said, he had his reward.

It grew late; the rooms were rapidly thinning. Minola and Miss Blanchet
were to remain at Mrs. Money's for the night. Blanchet could not stay
much longer, and had risen to go away, when Victor Heron entered. He
came up to speak to Minola, and Minola introduced him to her particular
friend and _camarade_, Miss Blanchet; and he sat beside Miss Blanchet
and talked to her for a few moments, while Blanchet took advantage of
the opportunity to talk again with Minola. Then Mr. Heron rose, and
Herbert rose, and Mary Blanchet, growing courageous, told Heron that
that was her brother and a great poet, and in a very formal,
old-fashioned way, begged permission to make them acquainted. Mr. Heron
was a passionate admirer of poetry, and occasionally, perhaps, tried
the patience of his friends by too lengthened citations from
Shakespeare and Milton; but in modern poetry he had not got much later
than "The Arab physician Karshish," which he could recite from end to
end; and "In Memoriam," of which he knew the greater part. He was,
however, modestly conscious that his administrative en