Lunch had been over in the dining-room some time, and her ladyship was going out for a drive. Maude had again declined, and her ladyship had smiled, knowing that Sir Grantley Wilters would probably call. Her ladyship was wonderfully made up, and looked her best, for Monsieur Hector Launay from Upper Gimp Street had had an interview with her that morning. There had been a consultation on freckles, and a large mole which troubled her ladyship's chin had been condemned to death, executed with some peculiar acid, and its funeral performed and mourning arranged with a piece of black court plaster, which now looked like a beauty spot upon the lady's chin. Her gloves, of the sweetest pearl grey, fitted her plump hands to perfection, and she was quite ready to go out. "Where is your papa, dear Maude," said her ladyship, stopping to smell a bouquet. "Ah me, how sweet! How kind Sir Grantley is, and what taste he has in flowers." "Papa is in the library," said Maude, quietly, and she glanced nervously towards the door. "Come then, a sweet," cried her ladyship; "and he shall go and have a nice ride in the carriage, he shall, and look down and bark at all the dirty dogs in the road." As she showed her second best teeth in a large smile, the little terrier took it to be a challenge of war, and displayed his own pigmy set; but after a due amount of coaxing, and the gift of a lump of sugar, he permitted himself to be caught and placed beneath her ladyship's plump arm, presenting to a spectator who had a side view a little head cocking out in front, and a little tail cocking out behind--nothing more. "I shall be back by five, I dare say, Maude. Where is Tryphie?" "I am here, aunt, quite ready," said a cheerful voice, and the bright little girl appeared at the door. "You are not quite ready: you have only one glove on. Tryphie, you might pay some respect to those who find you a home and protection." The girl coloured slightly but made no answer, only exchanged glances with Maude, and kissed her hand to her. "Dear me!" exclaimed her ladyship, "where did I put my _flacon_? Oh, I remember." She marched in a stately manner with the roll of a female beadle, or an alderman in his gold chain of office, to an Indian cabinet, opened a drawer and inserted her hand. "Why, what is this?" she exclaimed, drawing out something whitey brown and throwing it down with an ejaculation of annoyance. "Disgusting!" The toy terrier uttered a sharp yelp of excitement, leaped from her ladyship's arms on to a table, upsetting a china cup and saucer, bounded on to the floor and seized that which her ladyship had rejected--to wit, a savoury-looking chicken bone, and proceeded to denude it of its flesh. "I declare your papa grows insufferable," cried her ladyship. "His brain must be softening. I shall consult the doctor about him."