_Bow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow_ went the clamorous Fury again; _Ring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring_ went the aggravated bell, half drowning Mrs. Yammerton’s impressive “O dear! nothin’ of the sort—nothin’ of the sort, only a fox-hunting acquaintance of the Major’s—only a fox-hunting acquaintance of the Major’s.” And then the Major came to renew his affectionate embraces, with inquiries about the night, and the looks of the moon—was it hazy, or was it clear, or how was it? “Mr. and Mrs. Rocket Larkspur!” exclaimed the Bumbler, following up the key-note in which he had pitched his first announcement and forthwith the hugging and grinning was resumed with the new comers, Mrs. Larkspur presently leading Mrs. Yammerton off sofawards, in order to poke her inquiries unheard by the Major, who was now opening a turnip dialogue with Mr. Rocket—yellow bullocks, purple tops, and so on. “Well, tell me—_which is it?_” ejaculated Mrs. Rocket Larkspur, looking earnestly, in Mrs. Yammerton’s expressive eyes—“_which is it,_” repeated she, in a determined sort of take-no-denial tone. “Oh dear! nothin’ of the sort—nothin’ of the sort, I assure you!” whispered Mrs. Yammerton anxiously, well knowing the danger of holloaing before you are out of the wood. “Oh, _tell me—tell me_,” whispered Mrs. Rocket, coaxingly; “I’m not like Mrs.————um there, looking at Mrs. Dotherington, who would blab it all over the country.” “_Really_ I have nothing to tell,” replied Mrs. Yammerton serenely. “Why, do you mean to say he’s not after one of the————um’s?” demanded Mrs. Rocket eagerly. “I don’t know what you mean,” laughed Mrs. Yammerton. 167m _Original Size_ _Bow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow_ went the terrier again, giving Mrs. Yammerton an excuse for sidling off to Mrs. “um,” who with her daughter were lost in admiration at a floss silk cockatoo, perched on an orange tree, the production of Miss Flora. “Oh, it was so beautiful! Oh, what a love of a screen it would make; what would she give if her Margaret could do such work,” inwardly thinking how much better Margaret was employed making her own—we will not say what.