essant grievance it is that
no baby has come to bless her fireside, she turns to the unfortunate
curate and says blandly.

"Dear Mr. Boer, _so_ glad! I never knew of it until this very instant,
when I heard you telling Dulce of your sweet little son and heir. I
congratulate you. Of course"--coquettishly--"you are very proud of it.
Having had three dear babies of my own I can quite rejoice with you and
Mrs. Boer."

Deadly silence follows this outburst. Mr. Boer blushes a dingy red. The
others relapse into an awed calm; all is confusion.

Portia is the first to recover herself.

"Dear Dulce, may we have our tea?" she says, sweetly, pointing to the
table in the distance, where the man, five minutes ago, had placed the
pretty Sevres cups and saucers.

By this time Julia has awakened to the fact that she has committed
herself in some way unknown to her; has, in fact, taken a false step not
now to be retrieved.

"What lovely cups!" she says, therefore, very hurriedly, to Dulce,
pointing to the Sevres on the distant table, with a view to covering her
confusion; "so chaste--so unique. I adore old china. I myself am
something of a connoisseur. Whenever I have a spare penny," with an
affected little laugh, "I go about collecting it."

"I wish she would collect herself," says Dicky Browne, in a careful
aside; "I'm sure it is quite awful the way she has just behaved to poor
Boer. Putting him in such an awkward position, you know. He looks just
as if he had been found guilty of some social misdemeanor. Look at him,
Dulce, he isn't going to have a fit, is he?"

"I hope not," says Dulce, with a furtive glance at the discomfited Boer,
"but what could have induced Julia to make that unlucky speech? Dicky,
you horrid boy, I believe you could tell the truth about it if you
would."

"I object to your insinuation," says Mr. Browne, "and I object also to
being called a boy. Though, after all"--reflectively--"I don't see why I
should. The difference between the boy and man is so slight that nobody
need create a feud about it. A boy has apples, toffy, twine and
penknives in his pocket--a young man has a pipe instead. It is really of
no consequence, and perhaps the pipe is the cleanest. I give in,
therefore, and I am _not_ offended."

"But still, you have not answered me," says the astute Dulce. "Did you
incite Julia to make that unpleasant speech?"

"I'd scorn to answer such a question," says Mr. Browne, loftily. "What a
likely