"That he is a foreign jackanape. He never darkens my door again. You heard this?" to Ida. "I did not, sir, but Mr. Pemberton displays such penetration in discovering, and taste in fitting on caps that could suit no one else so well, I am not inclined to contest his title to this latest style." "I do not wonder at your defence of your erudite suitor," said Josephine, laying a disagreeable stress upon the adjective. "If he were to single me out in every company, as the one being capable of appreciating him, I, too, should be blinded by the distinction attendant upon my notoriety. But as His Highness never gives token, by word or deed, of his consciousness of the existence of so unpretending a personage, I may be pardoned my impartial observation and judgment. I do not expect you to forbid his visits, sir, but I wish it understood that _I_ am not at home when he calls." "And that you reject his attentions?" asked Ida, dryly. Josephine did not like her smile, yet saw no danger in replying--"assuredly!" "It is a pity," was the rejoinder, "that your resolution was not postponed until Tuesday." "And why?" said Mr. Read. "Mr. Dermott informed me last night that he had secured three tickets for the concert of Monday evening, and requested permission to call for Josephine and myself. I told him that she had expressed anxiety to attend, and that I was disengaged. She was not in the parlor when he left, and he entrusted the invitation to me. He will be here this forenoon for her answer. As things now stand, his visit will be extremely mal-apropos. I shall decline for myself; she can do the same." Josephine prudently lowered her eye-lids, but her lips were white with rage. She had especial reasons for desiring to go to this concert. Every body was running mad after the principal performer:--absence from necessity would be a pitiable infliction;--to stay away from choice, irrefragable proof of want of taste. To be escorted thither by Mr. Dermott, would give her an eclat the devotion of a score of Pembertons could not produce. In seeking to mortify another, she had pulled down this heavy chagrin upon her own head,--common fate of those who would make the hearts and backs of their fellows the rounds of their ladder to revenge or to fame. Even Mr. Read was momentarily disconcerted. "I will procure you a ticket," he said, consolingly. That tongue was used to falsehood, yet it did not move as glibly as was its wont, as she replied, "I do not care to go, sir." "That is fortunate," said Ida, "as every seat was taken yesterday. You do not object to my withdrawing _now_?"