hatred of Mamma Holt, what will you do with me, Dispenser of the Destinies of the Universe?"
Mrs. Hauksbee dropped into a low chair in front of the fire, and, chin in hand, gazed long and steadfastly at Mrs. Mallowe.
"I do not know,' she said, shaking her head, "what I shall do with you, dear. It's obviously impossible to marry you to some one else—your husband would object, and the experiment might not be successful after all. I think I shall begin by preventing you from—what is it?—'sleeping on ale-house benches and snoring in the sun'."
"Don't! I don't like your quotations. They are so rude. Go to the Library and bring me new books."
"While you sleep? No! If you don't come with me, I shall spread your newest frock on my 'rickshaw-bow, and when any one asks me what I am doing, I shall say that I am going to the dressmaker's to get it let out. I shall take care that Mrs. MacNamara sees me! Put your things on, there's a good girl."
Mrs. Mallowe groaned and obeyed, and the two went off to the Library, where they found Mrs. Delville and the man who went by the nickname of The Dancing Master. By that time Mrs. Mallowe was awake and eloquent.
"That is the Creature!" said Mrs. Hauksbee, with the air of one pointing out a slug in the road.
"No," said Mrs. Mallowe, "the man is the Creature. Ugh! Good evening, Mr. Bent. I thought you were coming to tea this evening."
"Surely it was for to-morrow, was it not?" answered The Dancing Master. "I understood—I fancied—I'm so sorry— how very unfortunate!"
But Mrs Mallowe had passed on.
"For the practised equivocator you said he was," murmured Mrs. Hauksbee, "he strikes me as a failure. Now wherefore should he have preferred a walk with The Dowd to tea with us? Elective affinities, I suppose—both grubby.
5
