"Oh, Will!" said the mother, "what extravagance!" "The boy’s mad!" said the father. "Do you hear them, Dove? Now they have misconducted themselves, you and I shall have all the champagne to ourselves." What a merry little party it was, that evening! The landlord of the house lent them the proper wineglasses; Dove went and put on part of the blue pearl head-dress the Count had given her, to make-believe she had been at the theatre; and when they sate down at the bright white cloth, with everything on the table as brilliant and clean as fingers could make it, it was quite like old times. "Now, Will," said Mr. Anerley, "let’s see what you’ve brought. Mind you, my taste isn’t dulled by want of exercise." "I didn’t consider your taste a bit, sir. I got the wine for Dove, and it is as sweet as——" "Herself! These young people are too bashful to pay compliments nowadays. Ah, Dove, don’t these bits of blue paper hold wonders within them—the treasures of the deep—the only fish worth calling a fish—and every one of them with a diamond ring in its mouth? Here, Will, give me your ring, that I may see how it looks on the nose of this famous fellow which I mean to give to Dove." The young man darted a hasty deprecating look towards his father, and the blood rushed over his face. The father caught that swift look, and glanced at the finger on which Will generally wore this ring—one he had brought from Turkey. There was no ring there; it _had_ been there that morning. Mr. Anerley did not enjoy the supper. Sometimes the fish seemed to stick in his throat; and the wine had a bitter flavour. But he did not spoil the enjoyment of the others; and Dove’s delight at recalling one of the old bygone evenings was immense. She persisted in making-believe that they had been to the theatre, and criticized the actors gravely and severely. She pecked at her little piece of fish like a thrush at a ripe white cherry; and she wore on her pretty, small, blue-veined wrist a wonderful bracelet that Will had brought her from abroad. "Shall I kiss the goblet for you, Sir Knight?" she said, taking a little sip out of Will’s glass. "And yours, venerable sir?" "It seems to me," said Mr. Anerley, "that the old custom was a system of levying blackmail on all the wineglasses round. Still, I will pay the price. Well, now it isn’t bad wine; but the bouquet is clearly owing to you, Dove."