And out in the street, under the gas-lamp at the corner, I had to submit to a deluge of criticism from both my companions. I don’t know which I liked least, the scorn of Owen, who revealed the tangible source of Margaret’s woes, and would have had it adopted by the State, or, after Owen had left, the ribald jibes of George, who found Faust a poor creature, requiring a moon, a garden, a casket of jewels, a devil, and several incantations, before he could beguile an innocent rustic maiden who was already in love with him. I resolved that I would go to the opera every night that week, but that I would go alone. Between the acts I had eagerly studied my programme, and the delightful, unfamiliar, romantic names, “Tannhäuser,” “Il Trovatore,” “Aida,” “Lohengrin,” were like syrens singing to me through the darkness, with an irresistible and passionate sweetness. CHAPTER XXV I went to the opera every night that week, as I had planned to do, but the edge of my appetite was blunted, and, save in the case of “Tannhäuser,” and of “Lohengrin,” I was disappointed. I had already become more critical, and I now doubted if “Faust” were the admirable work I had fancied it. One evening there came a letter for me, and, when I opened the envelope, I found inside a card which told me that Miss L. Gill and Master E. Gill would be “at home” on Friday, the 23rd of December. My own name was written at the top of the card. In the bottom left-hand corner was the word “Dancing,” followed by the numerals 8–12; and in the corner opposite were four mysterious letters――“R.S.V.P.” I knew it to be an invitation to a party, but “R.S.V.P.” was puzzling. Neither Uncle George nor Aunt Margaret could throw any light upon these symbols, though Uncle George pondered over the card half the evening, as if it had been a kind of magazine competition. Miss Izzy probably would have known, but Miss Izzy had gone, and would not be back till to-morrow morning, whereas I had a keen conviction that action should be taken to-night. “Who are they?” Uncle George asked, referring to the Gills. “Mr. Gill is a solicitor. Owen Gill is in my classes at school.” Uncle George examined the card anew, bringing this fresh light to bear on it. He held it at arm’s length, and then put on his glasses and peered at it through them. “Miss L. Gill and Master E. Gill,” he read aloud slowly and solemnly. I laughed. “They’re Owen’s young sister and brother,” I explained. “A solicitor. I suppose he will have some letters after his name,” said Uncle George, weakly. “Oh, they’re not those,” I answered, impatiently. It seemed to me that everybody was very stupid. “R.S.V.P.” Uncle George threw out thoughtfully. He turned the card round and examined the back. “Reply soon: very pressing,” suggested George. His father looked at him doubtfully, and laid the card on the table. “It can’t be so pressing,” he said, glancing at the calendar, “when it’s a fortnight off.”