LUCY was not called on to write any more formal invitations to Mr. Talboys. Her uncle used merely to say to her: “Talboys dines with us to-day.” She made no remark; she respected her uncle's preference; besides--the pony! Of these trios Mr. Fountain was the true soul. He had to blow the coals of conversation right and left. It is very good of me not to compare him to the Tropic between two frigid zones. At first he took his nap as usual; for he said to himself: “Now I have started them they can go on.” Besides, he had seen pictures in the shop windows of an old fellow dozing and then the young ones “popping.” Dozing off with this idea uppermost, he used to wake with his eyes shut and his ears wide open; but it was to hear drowsy monosyllables dropping out at intervals like minute-guns, or to find Lucy gone and Talboys reading the coals. Then the schemer sighed, and took to strong coffee soon after dinner, and gave up his nap, and its loss impaired his temper the rest of the evening. He indemnified himself for these sleepless dinners by asking David Dodd and his sister to tea thrice a week on the off-nights; this joyous pair amused the old gentleman, and he was not the man to deny himself a pleasure without a powerful motive. “What, again so soon?” hazarded Lucy, one day that he bade her invite them. “I hardly know how to word my invitation; I have exhausted the forms.” “If you say another word, I'll make them come every night. Am I to have no amusement?” he added, in a deep tone of reproach; “they make me laugh.” “Ah! I forgot; forgive me.” “Little hypocrite; don't they you too, pray? Why, you are as dull as ditchwater the other evenings.” “Me, dear, dull with you?” “Yes, Miss Crocodile, dull with a pattern uncle and his friend--and your admirer.” He watched her to see how she would take this last word. Catch her taking it at all. “I am never dull with you, dear uncle,” said she; “but a third person, however estimable, is a certain restraint, and when that person is not very lively--” Here the explanation came quietly to an untimely end, like those old tunes that finish in the middle or thereabouts. “But that is the very thing; what do I ask them for to-night but to thaw Talboys?” “To thaw Talboys? he! he!” Lucy seemed so tickled by this expression that the old gentleman was sorry he had used it. “I mean, they will make him laugh.” Then, to turn it off, he said hastily, “And don't forget the fiddle, Lucy.” “Oh, yes, dear, please let me forget that, and then perhaps they may forget to bring it.” “Why, you pressed him to bring it; I heard you.” “Did I?” said Lucy, ruefully. “I am sure I thought you were mad after a fiddle, you seconded Eve so warmly; so that was only your extravagant politeness after all. I am glad you are caught. I like a fiddle, so there is no harm done.”