cellent joke.

"Does he?" he returned, as quietly as possible, and then his glance
meeting Theo's, she broke into a little burst of horror-stricken
self-reproach.

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed. "I oughtn't to have said that, ought I? I
forgot how rude it would sound; but, indeed, I only meant that Sabre was
so slow and heavy, and--and so indifferent to people, somehow. I don't
think he cares about being liked at all."

She was so abashed at her blunder, that she looked absolutely imploring,
and Mr. Denis Oglethorpe smiled again. He felt inclined to make friends
with Theodora.

"There is a little girl staying at Lady Throckmorton's," he had said to
Priscilla. "A relative of hers. A pretty creature, too, Priscilla, for a
bread-and-butter Miss."

But just at this moment, he thought better of the matter. What tender,
speechful eyes she had! He was aroused to a recognition of their beauty
all at once. What contour there was in the turn of arm and shoulder
under the close-fitting purple cloth! He was artistically thankful that
there was no other trimming of the straight bodice than the line of
buttons that descended from the full white ruff of swansdown at her
throat, to her delicate, trim waist. Her unconscious stateliness of
girlish form, and the conscious shyness of her manner, were the
loveliest inconsistency in the world.

"Oh, I shall not tell Sir Dugald," he said to her, good-humoredly.
"Besides, I think the comparison an excellent one. I don't know anything
in London so like Sir Dugald as Sir Dugald's dog."

Theodora stroked Sabre, apologetically, but could scarcely find courage
to speak. She had stood somewhat in awe of Mr. Denis Oglethorpe, even at
first, and her discomfort was rapidly increasing. He must think her
dreadfully stupid, though he was good-humored enough to make light of
her silly speech. Certainly Priscilla never made such a silly speech in
her life; but then, how could one teach French and Latin, and be
anything but ponderously discreet?

Mr. Denis Oglethorpe was not thinking of Priscilla's wisdom, however; he
was thinking of Theodora North; he was thinking that he must have been
very blind not to have seen before that his friend's niece was a beauty
of the first water, young as she was. But he had been tired and fagged
out, he remembered, on the first occasion of their meeting--too tired to
think of anything but his appointment at Broome street, and Priscilla's
Greek grammar. And now in recogn