all, to teach us a dance called, I think, the
Washington Post, and which was, she said, much danced in England;
and, to induce us to learn, she played the tune to us on the piano.
We remained untouched by its beauties, each buried in an easy-chair
toasting our toes at the fire. Amongst those toes were those of the
Man of Wrath, who sat peaceably reading a book and smoking. Minora
volunteered to show us the steps, and as we still did not move, danced
solitary behind our chairs. Irais did not even turn her head to look,
and I was the only one amiable or polite enough to do so. Do I deserve
to be placed in Minora's list of disagreeable people side by side with
Irais? Certainly not. Yet I most surely am.

"It wants the music, of course," observed Minora breathlessly, darting
in and out between the chairs, apparently addressing me, but glancing at
the Man of Wrath.

No answer from anybody.

"It is such a pretty dance," she panted again, after a few more
gyrations.

No answer.

"And is all the rage at home."

No answer.

"Do let me teach you. Won't you try, Herr Sage?"

She went up to him and dropped him a little curtesy. It is thus she
always addresses him, entirely oblivious to the fact, so patent to every
one else, that he resents it.

"Oh come, put away that tiresome old book," she went on gaily, as he did
not move; "I am certain it is only some dry agricultural work that you
just nod over. Dancing is much better for you." Irais and I looked at
one another quite frightened. I am sure we both turned pale when the
unhappy girl actually laid hold forcibly of his book, and, with a
playful little shriek, ran away with it into the next room, hugging it
to her bosom and looking back roguishly over her shoulder at him as she
ran. There was an awful pause. We hardly dared raise our eyes. Then the
Mall of Wrath got up slowly, knocked the ashes off the end of his cigar,
looked at his watch, and went out at the opposite door into his own
rooms, where he stayed for the rest of the evening. She has never, I
must say, been skittish since.

"I hope you are listening, Miss Minora," said Irais, "because this sort
of conversation is likely to do you good."

"I always listen when people talk sensibly," replied Minora, stirring
her grog.

Irais glanced at her with slightly doubtful eyebrows. "Do you agree with
our hostess's description of women?" she asked after a pause.

"As nobodies? No, of course I do not."

"Yet she is