Kate was sitting up for us. She received us with a pleased smile, asked how we had been entertained, and what the play was about. I told her as well as I could, but, after the second act, my memory was rather at fault. Cornelius said, pointedly: "You must not wonder if she does not remember it better. I was talking to Armari." "What, your old friend Armari?" interrupted Kate. "Yes, he is in England." He spoke with a calmness that astonished her. "Are you not delighted to see him?" she asked. "I am very glad to see Armari," he replied, in a tone of ice. "I have asked him to dine with us next Thursday. He has promised to bring Schwab." "Schwab, too!--was he there?" "No; he was kept at home by a cold." "They shall have a good dinner," warmly said Kate. "Midge, is Armari as handsome as Cornelius described him in his letters?" "He is good-looking," I replied, awkwardly. "Pleasant?" "Yes--I don't know--I think so." "Armari," gravely said Cornelius, "resembles the celebrated portraits of Raffaelle. He is something more than good-looking--he is a delightful companion, and something more than pleasant." "I am sure he is not the common-place fellow you made him out, Daisy," observed Kate. "I did not make him out anything; I don't think about him at all," I replied, half vexed. "Well, you need not colour up so," she said, looking surprised; "and you need not look so glum about it, Cornelius. Tastes differ." Neither replied. Miss O'Reilly, whose whole thoughts were absorbed in hospitality, did not notice this, but added, with a start: "How long are they to stay?" "Two or three weeks." "Then ask them to spend those two or three weeks here," she rejoined, triumphantly. "I have bed-rooms to spare, you know." "Here--in the house?" exclaimed Cornelius. "Where else should I have bed-rooms?" "Thank you," was his short reply. "Does thank you, mean yes?" "No, indeed. What should they do here?" He seemed impatient and provoked. His sister asked if he would not feel glad to have his friends near him? He replied "Certainly," but that they came to see London, and not to coop themselves up in a suburb. Miss O'Reilly said she would at least make the offer. Her brother looked quite irritated. "Schwab will smoke you to death," he said. "As if I were not used to smoking." "My cigars are nothing to his Turkish pipe. Besides, he swears awfully." "In German," philosophically replied Kate. "Let him, Cornelius: I shall not understand him; and it will only be the worse for his own soul, poor heathenish fellow." "He is a confirmed woman-hater." "Unhappy man, not to know better!--but there is a comfort in it, too. I shall not be afraid of his making love to Daisy." "He will eat you out of house and home." "I am astonished at such a mean, paltry objection," replied Miss O'Reilly, waxing indignant. "Well, then," he said, impatiently, "take it for granted that I do not want Schwab."