Into this Mr. Tremain slipped carelessly, and with the familiarity of good-fellowship, lifted the great bouquet of roses and hyacinths that lay unheeded on Esther's lap. Dick Darling leant over and nodded her brown head at him, while Mrs. Newbold gave him one of her sweet smiles, but laid her fingers on her lips in token of silence, for _Box and Cox_ held the stage, and Miss James was entering into the spirit of Mrs. Bouncer with a _verve_ and sprightliness, seemingly incompatible with her usual irresponsive superciliousness. The absurd farce played itself out amidst the chilling reproofs of Mr. Robinson, and the plaudits of the spectators, until at last the curtain dropped upon the final scene. Philip turned then to Mrs. Newbold, and restoring her flowers to her, said: "_A propos_ of nothing, Esther, whose exquisite taste is one supposed to praise in the arrangement of your posy?" "Ah," said Mrs. Newbold, smiling again, and touching the great jacqueminots caressingly with her fingers, "I am very proud of my bouquet, and I will give you three guesses, Philip, at the donor's name." "Yes," broke in Dick Darling, quickly, "and I'll bet you three to five you don't guess it!" "Those are very certain odds, Miss Dick," replied Mr. Tremain, laughing, "considering that never in the course of my long and varied experience have I been known to elucidate the simplest rebus. Even 'when is a door not a door?' is beyond my mental powers; how then can I be expected to divine who is the latest slave to Mrs. Newbold's charms? I must say however, I consider George a very amiable young man." "So do I," laughed Esther. "Now could a wife say more? But your three guesses, Mr. Tremain." "Miss Darling must put up the stakes first," answered Philip, "I am not going to bring my powerful legal mind to bear on this problem without first seeing the stakes. Now then, Miss Dick, out with them." "Oh, but I have positively nothing," cried Dick Darling, her face flushed and eager. "What could I possibly have worth Mr. Tremain's 'cheese'?" "My dear Dick!" exclaimed Esther, "you really must get out a dictionary of your own terms; your expressions, I am sure, are nowhere to be found in Lindley Murray." "Poor old duffer!" replied the incorrigible Dick, "I hope not indeed. I guess some of them would make his hair curl, even in the cold cold grave." Philip laughed, and Esther tried to look scandalised, but failed utterly; and then Mr. Tremain said, bending slightly forward: "You might put up that tantalising little note, Miss Dick, that is half stowed away in your laces. I am perfectly sure it contains 'some scandal of Queen Elizabeth,' which would amply repay me for my unwonted efforts, if I win it. Its very colour betrays it; whoever heard of a pink _billet-doux_ that was not redolent of intrigue? The more bashful the colour, the more gigantic the scandal."