positively the next Lord Ashbridge--should intend to devote his energies to an artistic calling, and allude to that scheme as doing something with his life, was a thing as unthinkable as if the butler had developed a fixed idea that he was “one of us.” The blow was a recent one; Michael’s letter had only reached his father this morning, and at the present moment Lord Ashbridge was attempting over a cup of tea on the long south terrace overlooking the estuary to convey--not very successfully--to his wife something of his feelings on the subject. She, according to her custom, was drinking a little hot water herself, and providing her Chinese pug with a mixture of cream and crumbled rusks. Though the dog was of undoubtedly high lineage, Lord Ashbridge rather detested her. “A musical career!” he exclaimed, referring to Michael’s letter. “What sort of a career for a Comber is a musical career? I shall tell Michael pretty roundly when he arrives this evening what I think of it all. We shall have Francis next saying that he wants to resign, too, and become a dentist.” Lady Ashbridge considered this for a moment in her stunned mind. “Dear me, Robert, I hope not,” she said. “I do not think it the least likely that Francis would do anything of the kind. Look, Petsy is better; she has drunk her cream and rusks quite up. I think it was only the heat.” He gave a little good-humoured giggle of falsetto laughter. “I wish, Marion,” he said, “that you could manage to take your mind off your dog for a moment and attend to me. And I must really ask you not to give your Petsy any more cream, or she will certainly be sick.” Lady Ashbridge gave a little sigh. “All gone, Petsy,” she said. “I am glad it has all gone,” said he, “and we will hope it won’t return. But about Michael now!” Lady Ashbridge pulled herself together. “Yes, poor Michael!” she said. “He is coming to-night, is he not? But just now you were speaking of Francis, and the fear of his wanting to be a dentist!” “Well, I am now speaking of Michael’s wanting to be a musician. Of course that is utterly out of the question. If, as he says, he has sent in his resignation, he will just have to beg them to cancel it. Michael seems not to have the slightest idea of the duties which his birth and position entail on him. Unfitted for the life he now leads . . . waste of time. . . . Instead he proposes to go to Baireuth in August, and then to settle down in London to study!” Lady Ashbridge recollected the almanac. “That will be in September, then,” she said. “I do not think I was ever in London in September. I did not know that anybody was.” “The point, my dear, is not how or where you have been accustomed to spend your Septembers,” said her husband. “What we are talking about is--” “Yes, dear, I know quite well what we are talking about,” said she. “We are talking about Michael not studying music all September.”