r his reading. It would be delightfully ridiculous, but for a
drawback; Mr. Philip Dunboyne's first impressions of Mrs. Tenbruggen do
not incline him to look at that lady from a humorous point of view.

Helena's remarks follow, as usual. She has seen Mrs. Tenbruggen's name
on the address of a letter written by Miss Jillgall--which is quite
enough to condemn Mrs. Tenbruggen. As for Philip himself, she feels not
quite sure of him, even yet. No more do I. Third Extract.

The letter that follows must be permitted to speak for itself:

I have flown into a passion, dearest Helena; and I am afraid I shall
make you fly into a passion, too. Blame Mrs. Tenbruggen; don't blame me.

On the first occasion when I found my father under the hands of the
Medical Rubber, she took no notice of me. On the second occasion--when
she had been in daily attendance on him for a week, at an exorbitant
fee--she said in the coolest manner: "Who is this young gentleman?" My
father laid down his book, for a moment only: "Don't interrupt me again,
ma'am. The young gentleman is my son Philip." Mrs. Tenbruggen eyed me
with an appearance of interest which I was at a loss to account for. I
hate an impudent woman. My visit came suddenly to an end.

The next time I saw my father, he was alone.

I asked him how he got on with Mrs. Tenbruggen. As badly as possible,
it appeared. "She takes liberties with my neck; she interrupts me in
my reading; and she does me no good. I shall end, Philip, in applying a
medical rubbing to Mrs. Tenbruggen."

A few days later, I found the masterful "Masseuse" torturing the poor
old gentleman's muscles again. She had the audacity to say to me: "Well,
Mr. Philip, when are you going to marry Miss Eunice Gracedieu?" My
father looked up. "Eunice?" he repeated. "When my son told me he was
engaged to Miss Gracedieu, he said 'Helena'! Philip, what does this
mean?" Mrs. Tenbruggen was so obliging as to answer for me. "Some
mistake, sir; it's Eunice he is engaged to." I confess I forgot myself.
"How the devil do you know that?" I burst out. Mrs. Tenbruggen ignored
me and my language. "I am sorry to see, sir, that your son's education
has been neglected; he seems to be grossly ignorant of the laws of
politeness." "Never mind the laws of politeness," says my father. "You
appear to be better acquainted with my son's matrimonial prospects than
he is himself. How is that?" Mrs. Tenbruggen favored him with another
ready reply: "My author