ever, you
are right. Serious things do not interest her--and that is--I should
say--we are serious."

"I am," said Mrs. Mackintosh, "and at your time of life you ought to be;
and if we stand here any longer looking at that chunk of brick in the
broiling sun, we'll both be as red as a couple of beets."

No amount of sentiment could be proof against a statement of this sort,
and they moved on.

Violet and Spotts had meantime sat themselves down on a convenient
tombstone to while away the interval till luncheon was served.

"There are lots of things I want to talk to you about, Alvy," began the
little actress, "and I never get the chance."

"Well, fire away," he replied. "You've got it now."

"In the first place," she said, "I don't like the way things are going
here."

"At the palace, you mean?"

"Yes. We're not aboveboard. We're shamming all the while. Besides, we're
doing nothing in our profession."

"It's better than doing time in prison."

"It isn't straightforward, and I don't like it," she went on.

"Neither do I," he returned; "but there are other things I like less."

"Such as?"

"Well, people falling in love with you, for instance."

"Oh, Cecil. He received his _conge_ before we left America."

"I said _people_."

"You don't mean the Bishop?"

Spotts nodded.

"But he's such a dear funny old thing!" she cried.

"What's that got to do with it?"

"Why, he might be my grandfather."

"He's as frisky as a two-year-old," remarked the actor.

"And finally," continued Violet, not noticing the interruption, "his old
cat of a sister wouldn't let him."

"Worms have turned, and straws have broken camels' backs before now,"
persisted Spotts.

"Don't you call me names, sir! Worms and straws, indeed! What next, I
should like to know!"

"If you don't take care, you'll be called his _Lordship's_ 'leopard.'"

She burst out laughing.

"Nonsense!" she cried. "Why, I actually believe you're becoming
jealous."

"Not a bit of it," he said. "I'd trust you, little girl, through thick
and thin."

"I know you would, Alvy, and I'd rather marry you--well, ten times,
before I'd marry a lord or a bishop once."

"I know it, old girl, I know it!" cried Spotts ecstatically, and
slipped his arm round her waist.

"Oh, do be careful," she protested. "Just think, if any one should see
us! I'm sure I heard a footstep behind us."

They looked up, and saw Cecil above them, standing on the sill of an old
ruined