e watched my opportunity to court the
artist with a smile, whereupon he sighed again and reached out his hand
for the crystal pitcher; but it was empty.

Miss Kingsley, however, was not one to quit the field without a
struggle. So successful were my efforts that she was forced to sit
silent and with a smile on her lip, from her obligations as a hostess;
but I knew she was preparing a revenge.

It came sooner than I expected. Taking advantage of a pause in the
conversation, caused by Mr. Spence leaning forward to explain to me on
paper the rudiments of an attempt he had been making to apply the
principles of the Economy of Speech to arithmetical problems, she
whispered in an aside to Paul Barr, but so loud as to be audible to
every one at table,--

"Three millions at least."

Impertinent as this reference to my worldly prospects was, I should not
have regarded it as of importance but for the strange behavior of Mr.
Spence, whose hand at the announcement shook in writing like an aspen
leaf. He looked up at me with an expression of mingled pain and inquiry,
which was so completely earnest that my own eyes drooped on meeting his.
An embarrassing silence ensued for an instant, and then with a bound
Paul Barr rose from his chair, and flinging himself down before the
piano began to dash off a wild, exuberant production that suggested the
lawless but triumphant paean of some heathen divinity.

As we returned to the other room I felt instinctively that my prestige
with Mr. Spence had been impaired by the whisper of Miss Kingsley. His
attentions ceased, and as a consequence Mr. Fleisch also neglected me. I
took a seat on the sofa by the side of Mrs. Marsh. In an opposite corner
my rival and the two moderationists were examining a manuscript without
apparent consciousness of my existence. The sudden transposition of
affairs made me sensitive. Paul Barr still sat at the piano executing
his delirious fantasy, and ever and anon looking back over his shoulder
at me. He at least was faithful. But it was not admiration I sought. I
wished for respect for my intelligence, and to be considered a promising
proselyte of culture. I seemed a few moments ago to have won this
recognition from the entire company, and now I was an outcast.

As fortune would have it, the mystery was explained a few minutes later
through the efficacy of Mrs. Marsh. We entered into conversation, and
almost immediately she volunteered certain details regarding M