"I'm sure it isn't," said Madge, who had been talking about something else for the last five minutes. "You are a very rude young man."
"I beg your pardon," said Brian, waking up. "You were saying——"
"That the horse is the most noble of all animals—exactly."
"I don't understand—" began Brian, rather puzzled.
"Of course you don't," interrupted Madge, petulantly, "considering I've been wasting my eloquence on a deaf man for the last ten minutes, and very likely lame as well as deaf. And to prove the truth of the remark, she ran up the path with Brian after her. He had a long chase of it, for Madge was nimble and better acquainted with the garden than he was, but at last he caught her just as she was running up the steps into the house, and then—history repeats itself.
They went into the drawing-room and found that Mr. Frettlby had gone up to his study and did not want to be disturbed. Madge sat down to the piano, but before she struck a note Brian took both her hands prisoners.
"Madge," he said gravely, "what did your father say when you made that mistake."
"He was very angry," she answered. "Quite cross; I'm sure I don't know why."
Brian sighed as he released her hands, and was about to reply when the visitors' bell sounded; they heard the servant answer it, and then someone was taken up stairs to Mr. Frettlby's study.
When the footman came in to light the gas, Madge asked who it was that had come to the door.
"I don't know Miss," he answered; "he said he wanted to see Mr. Frettlby particularly, so I took him up to the study."
"But I thought that papa said he was not to be disturbed?"
"Yes, Miss, but the gentleman had an appointment with him."
"Poor papa," sighed Madge, turning again to the piano. "He has always got such a lot to do."
Left to themselves, Madge began playing Waldtenfel's last new valse, a dreamy, haunting melody, with a touch of sadness in it, and Brian, lying lazily on the sofa, listened.
