ookfield's
concerted form of reply. The use of it, together with the gaiety of
dancing blood, gave Adela (who believed that she ought to be weeping,
and could have wept easily) strange twitches of what I would ask
permission to call the juvenile 'shrug-philosophy.' As thus: 'What
creatures we are, but life is so!' And again, 'Is not merriment dreadful
when a duty!' She was as miserable as she could be but not knowing that
youth furnished a plea available, the girl was ashamed of being cheerful
at all. Edward Burley's sketch of Mr. Pericles scattering his band, sent
her into muffled screams of laughter; for which she did internal penance
so bitter that, for her to be able to go on at all, the shrug-philosophy
was positively necessary; Mr. Pericles himself saw the sketch, and
remarked critically, "It is zat I have more hair:" following which, he
tapped the signal for an overture to commence, and at the first stroke
took a run, with his elbows clapping exactly as the shrewd hand of
Edward had drawn him.

"See him--zat fellow," Mr. Pericles said to Laura Tinley, pointing to
the leader. "See him pose a maestro! zat leads zis tintamarre. He is a
hum-a-bug!"

Laura did the vocal caricaturing, when she had gathered plenty of matter
of this kind. Altogether, as host, Mr. Pericles accomplished his duty in
furnishing amusement.

Late in the afternoon, Sir Twickenham Pryme and Wilfrid arrived in
company. The baronet went straight to Cornelia. Wilfrid beckoned to
Adela, from whom he heard of his father's illness at the hotel in town,
and the conditions imposed on them. He nodded, said lightly, "Where's
Emilia?" and nodded again to the answer, "With papa," and then stopped
as he was walking off to one of the groups. "After all, it won't do for
us to listen to the whims of an invalid. I'm going back. You needn't say
you've seen me."

"We have the doctor's most imperative injunction, dearest," pleaded
Adela, deceived for a moment. "Papa's illness is mental chiefly. He
is able to rise and will be here very soon, if he is not in any way
crossed. For heaven's sake, command yourself as we have done--painfully
indeed! Besides, you have been seen."

"Has she--?" Wilfrid began; and toned an additional carelessness. "She
writes, of course?"

"No, not once; and we are angry with her. It looks like ingratitude, or
stupidity. She can write."

"People might say that we are not behaving well," returned Wilfrid,
repeating that he must go t