with mirrors and scenes and busts, and with
gilded festoons. That picture was painted by the famous Hogarth. The
organ in the orchestra cost--you must supply the figure, Mr. Tyers,--and
the ceiling is at least two hundred feet high. Gentlemen from the
colonies and the country take notice."

By this time we were surrounded. Mr. Marmaduke was scandalized and
crushed, but Mr. Tyers, used to the vagaries of his fashionable patrons,
was wholly convulsed.

"Faith, Miss Manners, and you would consent to do this two nights more,
we should have to open another gate," he declared. Followed by the mob,
which it seems was part of the excitement, he led us out of the building
into the Grand Walk; and offered to turn on the waterfall and mill, which
(so Lady Sarah explained to me) the farmers and merchants fell down and
worshipped every night at nine, to the tinkling of bells. She told Mr.
Tyers there was diversion enough without "tin cascades." When we got to
the Grand Cross Walk he pointed out the black "Wilderness" of tall elms
and cedars looming ahead of us. And--so we came to the South Walk, with
its three triumphal arches framing a noble view of architecture at the
far end. Our gentlemen sauntered ahead, with their spy-glasses, staring
the citizens' pretty daughters out of countenance, and making cynical
remarks.

"Why, egad!" I heard Sir Charles say, "the wig-makers have no cause to
petition his Majesty for work. I'll be sworn the false hair this good
staymaker has on cost a guinea."

A remark which caused the staymaker (if such he was) such huge discomfort
that he made off with his wife in the opposite direction, to the time of
jeers and cock-crows from the bevy of Vauxhall bucks walking abreast.

"You must show us the famous 'dark walks,' Mr. Tyers," says Dorothy.

"Surely you will not care to see those, Miss Manners."

"O lud, of course you must," chimed in the Miss Stanleys; "there is no
spice in these flaps and flies."

He led us accordingly into Druid's Walk, overarched with elms, and dark
as the shades, our gentlemen singing, "'Ods! Lovers will contrive,'" in
chorus, the ladies exclaiming and drawing together. Then I felt a soft,
restraining hold on my arm, and fell back instinctively, vibrating to the
touch.

"Could you not see that I have been trying to get a word with you for
ever so long?"

"I trust you to find a way, Dolly, if you but wish," I replied, admiring
her stratagem.

"I am serious to-night."