Vicomte de Gars."

The Vicomte de Gars was a little man, with long wristbands. Miss
Tayleure described him as all eye-glass and shirt-front. Comic artists
have often drawn the moon capering on spider-legs; a little filling out
would make the Vicomte very like the caricature. He was profound--in his
salutations, learned--in lace, witty--thanks to the _Figaro_. His
attentions to Miss Theodosia Cockayne, and to Madame her mother, were of
the most splendid and elaborate description. He left flowers for the
young lady early in the morning.

It was very provoking that Theodosia had consented to be betrothed to
John Catt of Peckham.

"Carrie, my dear," Mrs. Cockayne observed, having called her daughter to
her bedroom for a good lecture, "once for all, I WILL NOT have
you on such intimate terms with the people of the house. What on earth
can you be thinking about? I should have thought you would show more
pride. I am quite sure the Vicomte saw you yesterday when you were
sitting quite familiarly with Miss Rowe in the bureau. I WILL
NOT have it."

"Mamma dear, Lucy Rowe is one of the most sensible and, at the same
time, best informed girls I ever knew; and her sentiments are everything
that could be desired."

"I will not be answered, Carrie; mind that. I wonder you haven't more
pride. A chit like that, who keeps the hotel books, and gives out the
sugar."

"Her father was----"

"Never mind what her father was. What is she? I wonder you don't
propose to ask her home on a visit."

"She would not disgrace----"

This was too much for Mrs. Cockayne. She stamped her foot, and bore down
upon Carrie with a torrent of reasons why Miss Rowe should be held at a
distance.

"You wouldn't find Theodosia behaving in such a manner. She understands
what's becoming. I dare say she's not so clever as you are----"

"Dear mamma, this is cruel----"

"Don't interrupt me. No, no; I see through most things. This Miss Howe
is always reading. I saw her just now with some novel, I've no doubt,
which she shouldn't read----"

"It was Kingsley's----"

"Hold your tongue, child. Yes, reading, and with a pen stuck behind her
ear."

"She's so very lonely: and Mrs. Howe is so very severe with her."

"I have no doubt it's quite necessary; there, go and dress for the
table d'hote, and mind what I say."

Poor Lucy wondered what on earth could have happened that Carrie
Cockayne avoided her: and what those furtive nods of the head and stolen
s